#hairs gettin a bit long for this and i need to invest in eye make up

[castleofshit]

Gonna have to install some curtains in this room or do this stuff at night in the future (con: get clowned on by roommates).

[marvelite624]

Is this a story from the world we know or just imagined to make it seem so? Either way, this is...

She sat half in, half out of the last rays of daylight which pierced the darkness to spite several panes of broken, dirty glass. There on the filthy floor, she did what she could to remain in the shadows of the old tool shed. Soon enough, pale shades of the moon would surround her in ambiance enough to chill the bone.

Nissa was not alone as she fondly recalled her day, uttering endearments to the delight of her new friend, held tightly upon her lap. He was a five and a half month old Redbone Coonhound named "Goody". He sat, head tilting side to side, wide-eyed, invested in every syllable she spoke. Nissa began to fiddle with one of his large paws and he licked, and then playfully gnawed at her hand, ears flopping, so cute she had to laugh.

What was it Paulie had said? "Goody will protect you." Those had been his words earlier when he loaned his cherished pup to Nissa. The two had only just met, but it quickly became clear who needed him most.

She'd been picking wildflowers in the field next to her home when a voice from behind startled her, "Those goin' in a vase when you get 'em home?" She turned quickly to see a boy not much older than her, dressed in worn jeans, loose-fitting tee, and stained, white canvas hightops. His long brown hair was clean, but needed brushing in the worst way. He sported a small scar, passing through his left eyebrow, the kind that only served to accentuate his boyish good looks. Over his shoulder hung a quiver. In one hand he held a hunting bow which he lowered to his side as he patted the anxious ball of fur that tagged along.

"Oh, my heavens...you gave me such a fright!", Nissa sputtered nervously. "Didn't mean'ta, Missy. I hope you'll forgive me.", came the boy's reply. He noticed she seemed a tense bundle o' nerves as he shyly studied this sweet girl who looked, for all the world, like she might bolt and run at any moment. She was pale with freckles across her small, upturned nose. Hair like his mother's...strawberry red, which she wore in a single braid down her back. Her shirt was a pastel green plaid that, like her eyes, complimented her locks nicely. Tied at the waist, the shirt topped a pair of white Levi's and sandals. Nissa was quite tomboyish at first glance. She wore no make-up. She didn't need to.

"Name's Paulie, Missy an' I'm very pleased to meet you. I don't bite an' neither does my dog here. His name's Goody." The puppy hopped up barking as if to say hello in his own way, turned a circle or two and flopped down on his backside, panting. "That's a silly name for a dog, ain't it?", she suggested, giggling slightly. "I think it's a swell name for 'im. My pops gave 'im to me right before he left for the war. Said he'd help protect Maw an' me while he's away. My pops takes a medicine powder to make him feel better sometimes. For me, it's my dog what makes me feel better, so I named him after my pop's powders cause he's as good as any medicine."

"Well, that's sweet and it makes sense. You can stop calling me 'Missy' though, I'm 'Nissa' and very happy to meet you too." She reached down to pet the pup as she spoke and was greeted with a heavy paw which she gladly shook. Paulie couldn't help but notice as she shook that paw, the three-quarter sleeve of her shirt rode up a bit revealing curious bruising on her arm. He realized they were impressions left by fingers, from a strong hand large enough to encircle her entire arm. The sight appalled him as it threw a damper on an otherwise pleasant encounter. Now he found himself scrutinizing every inch of Nissa that he could.

"So what's the bow for, Paulie?" He found it a fair question as they were strangers after all. He wondered if she was feeling in some way uncomfortable at the sight of it. "My pops was teaching me to hunt before he left. Small stuff mostly. Now, I'm showin' my dog. We're gettin' pretty good at it too, but I don't like to brag." Nissa listened intently as he spoke and Paulie hoped she wouldn't notice his eyes, investigating her further. She coughed softly, turning her head to one side as she covered her mouth politely. Sure enough, the bruising was in evidence on both arms now and disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt, similar markings all but faded. Paulie was growing angry, struggling not to let it show.

"Well, if you were planning to do any hunting here, don't let my daddy catch you. He don't fancy to strangers on his property. If he catches you...just for everybody's sake, do your hunting someplace else." He noticed a sudden lack of eye contact as she spoke of her daddy. Her right hand crossed in front of her to gently hold the left arm even as her gaze had dropped to the ground.

Hesitantly Paulie asked, "Is your daddy not a nice man, Nissa?" He hoped the question wouldn't upset her. "Why do you ask that? Of course he's nice! He just...well, he just has a bad temper and can't help himself sometimes. When he drinks...he thinks nobody loves him an' it makes him hate everything. Sometimes I think he regrets marrying my momma an' don't want to be stuck with us anymore." "So, he's not your real daddy then?" "Cole? Oh,no. My real dad passed into the arms of the Lord a few years ago. He left me an' Mom the house and a patch of land...a couple of horses too, Emily and old Levi, but Cole sold them. He said the feed was way too expensive. He did a lot of things I didn't like. Sure wish he hadn't taken away all o' my daddy's pictures like he did. I can barely remember his face these days. If it wasn't for the little one I keep hidden..."

"You have a picture hidden?" "Yeah, I keep it in the old shed at the edge of the woods. Noone ever goes there but me. You want to see my real daddy? C'mon, I'll show you!" With a new-found excitement, she ran past Paulie, wildflowers still gripped in one hand, giggling. Goody hopped up into a quick gallop, one sharp bark signaling the boy should follow. The shed wasn't very far, he could make it out just inside the woods across the field.

When Paulie reached the dilapidated, old shed, Nissa was bent over, hands on her knees huffing and puffing as she looked to the straw-covered earth beneath her. A slight turn of her head then toward the boy as he stopped nearby, "Ya know, for the outdoorsy, adventurous type, Paulie... you run like a girl." Her snarky grin was adorable, the boy thought.

"Yep, ya beat me fair and square dit'n ya." As he spoke, Goody, sitting slightly behind Nissa scratching his neck with a very busy hind paw, looked to Paulie with an inquisitive glare and issued a suspicious whimper. Paulie let go a quick gasp raising a finger to his lips to shush the mut. The wink which followed went totally unnoticed by the young miss. "I got bested by a girl! How will I ever live with myself?" Goody shook his flopping ears and just lay down. Truth is, the boy could have overtaken her at any time but, being the chivalrous gentleman his momma had taught him to be, he let her claim this little victory.

"So what'cha got here? Some secret hideaway?" "Sorta, but the way it sticks out like a sore thumb hardly makes it secret. Me coming here sometimes though, that, I try to keep to myself." She moved into the old rat trap with a confidence that surprised her new friend. The interior smelled of dead wood and decay. It was dank and dusty with very little light for maneuvering. Several random planks missing from the floor gave the girl no pause to her advance. It was obvious she'd been here many times before.

There was a row of counters across the back wall which rounded the corner to continue partially down one side. The opposite wall was bare except for some rusted chain hanging haphazardly. Paulie's eyes began to adjust enough to make out the many old, near useless tools strewn around the room as well as the roof in one corner barely fighting a long overdue collapse.

"You be careful now, Nissa! This place don't look none too safe." The girl shrugged as she squatted onto one knee, reaching under a shelf below the sagging countertop. Paulie leaned side to side, neck stretched trying to see what she was up to. "Here we go!" Her arm returned holding a ragged cigar box. She blew the dust from the top and lifted the lid. Inside lay a solitary black and white photograph.

She raised the picture delicately to her heart. Eyes closed, she whispered something the boy couldn't quite hear. Paulie waited patiently for what seemed a long time before offering, "You don't have to show me if you don't want to. It's okay if you changed your mind..." "No, no. I was just makin' sure he doesn't mind."

She passed her little treasure to him anxiously, squirming a bit as she did. The picture was of a man, wearing a rancher's work attire. He stood between two horses holding their reigns. On the back of one of the horses sat a very young girl, best guess, not too long out of diapers. Both of their faces sported the biggest smiles they could possibly manage. One of Nissa's happiest moments no doubt, preserved forever.

"Now, this is worth holdin' onto. Keep it hidden, Nissa. Don't let him take this one away from you too. Ever! He was very happy to have you in his life, just look at those faces." "Momma would've been in there with us, but she was taking the picture. I remember, she was all smiles that day, too. I miss him so much, Paulie, sometimes I can feel my heart ache. I tried for the longest time to remember his voice," her eyes welled as she spoke the words, "but it's faded. Left me, same as he did. If it weren't for this picture, I don't think..."

Suddenly, from somewhere across the field, a voice interrupted, "Nissy! Where you at?", as a look of dire concern crossed the girl's face. The words were slurred as, once again he called out, "Nit! Don't tick me off!". An almost wicked laughter followed. Her gaze had snapped to the door upon first hearing Cole's voice. He was coming. Nissa turned quickly to her new friend, "You gotta go! Gotta leave, now!" "But, I think I should..." "No, you don't know him like I do...please, for me, Paulie!" He lingered just long enough to whisper something to Goody and utter those four well-remembered words to her, "Goody will protect you." Paulie turned and darted from the shed as quickly as he could manage. The pup whined softly, but made no attempt to move from her side.

The reverie of recent events dissolved now. She'd sat quietly long enough to let her believe Cole had lost interest, given up. His pale shadow slowly stretching headlong into the room, and comment relieved her of that notion, "Heeere you are, my li'l nit. You got some 'splainin' to dooo." Goody felt an instant dislike for this obviously besotted menace, evidenced by the low growl that Nissa tried to cover, moving the guarded animal to the side.

She stood, wiping the traces of dirt and straw from her hands. "So, who was that I shaw running away? Got'choo a boyfriend, do ya?". "No, Cole, we was just...". "Oh, 'Cole' is it now? What happen'na 'Daddy'? You done got too big for 'Daddy'? Lookin' for boyfriends to teach you the ways of a man?

He stood there in front of her, teetering slightly, his eyes red and glassy as all inner light continued to fade. Her mother had chosen him largely based on his good looks. His dishwater blonde hair and prominent jaw, highlighted with killer blue eyes and perfect pearly whites, led her to believe she'd hit the jackpot. The nearly copper-colored hair across his chest and arms was a bonus for her, too. She'd begun calling him "wooly" and loved that he sported a mustache that "tickled her so much". There he was, in denim coveralls, no shirt, and what was obviously a pint of alcohol in his right pocket. He was sweating heavily, and the smell of old liquor hung in the air.

"Lookin' for some leshons are we? Well, the thingsh I can teach...letsh jus' say, Momma ain't complainin'. You been needin' nis a while now. Cole gonna show ya 'bout life. C'mere, Nit." "Stop calling me that!", her voice was raised louder than she'd intended. He reacted as expected. The back of his right hand lashed out across her cheek. She was staggered backward into the old countertop. Goody bravely rushed forward, howling, to sink his teeth into the man's leg. Cole shook and tried to loosen the pup's grip to no avail. Reaching out and sweeping the counter, he managed to find an old claw hammer. Firmly gripped, he brought the rusted tool down onto the little soldier's skull. A pitiful yelp accompanied the crunch that ended the brief battle. Cole immediately kicked the puppy away, sending him bouncing, then sliding to a halt against the wall just to left of the door.

Nissa raised her fists and began pounding at him. Screaming, crying, defenseless...he found it all very amusing, looking down at her. "Cole likes it rough, girlie...", he said as he reached to undo a hook on his coveralls, "you'll see."

Before that strap had finished its fall, there was a low whistle and rush of air. Confused by the sound, Nissa ceased her struggle. Cole dropped to his knees, finding himself suddenly face-to-face with the child he'd been charged to raise as his own, to protect and nurture selflessly. All the ways he'd failed at that must have crossed his mind as he knelt there, a perverse grin still mocking the girl, unable to move. One last wet gasp drew her attention down. Down to the point protruding from his throat. A mixture of blood and saliva bubbling at the edges. Cole fell sideways then.

Aghast, Nissa lifted her hands to her mouth. She wanted so badly to scream, but nothing came. She saw poor Goody against the wall, "Goody? Good boy?", and realized she'd gone numb. Had she spoken? Had she wanted to?Before her mind could even begin to process all these horrors, Paulie stepped back into the shed, bow still drawn and aimed.

"This ain't none'o your doin', Nissa. None of it, your fault...mine neither. He brung it on himself, had it comin'." Still unable to share a coherent thought, she rapidly nodded her head, signaling her agreement. We got work to do now...plans to make. He gently lifted his quieted boy into his arms and began to tell her what she needed to do. As they spoke, she stroked Goody's side. It began to make sense, all of it. Finished, Nissa retrieved her treasure-bearing box and rose to leave. She was surprised to find that Paulie had already done so. Nissa would see him once more before putting this behind her, once and then, perhaps never again.

Many seasons have come and gone. Nissa, now a young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties, has blossomed and grown into a proper lady, the apple of all the young men's eyes. She never married for reasons "most personal and private", so she says. Yet, she has a recurring dream of a man lifting her high overhead as he spins her round and round before placing her atop her favorite horse. That smile and the scar slicing through his left brow hold her captive until she wakes to a mist she can't quite grasp. This dream she mentions to none. The only tragedy to alter the course of her life since childhood was Momma having a stroke a few years back and much of her time is spent providing desperately needed care to her.

She sits on the porch every day, occasionally revisiting "the plan" and how small her role had actually been. Paulie had told her to give him what time he needed, but when she heard his whistling, and lame, impersonation of a Robin...or was it a Bluejay...no matter, that was her cue to distract her mom so he could slip into Cole's truck and drive it away, carrying some of his clothes and personal items Nissa had used the time to sneak out with. She'd watched through a window as he slipped behind the wheel and disappeared.

"Where is that crazy man going now? Supper's almost done and I was about to set the table. Made his favorite, too. Did he say anything to you, honey?" "Nope. He'll probly be right back though. Outta smokes or somethin', don't fret. I'll set the table for us." But Nissa knew.

Cole was gone without a trace. No sign of him at the shed the next day. Paulie had been thorough in dealing with what remained. What she didn't know was that Paulie's plan was to include him driving away for good. To this day, she's never seen him again.

She'd made a life for herself here. Got some horses. 'Socrates', 'DeMilo', and 'Sam', named for her father. Nissa always made time for them, always made time for the ones she loved. She managed to spare a little time for herself, too. Like I said, she would sit on her porch every day, but not just to sit. She was waiting.

Every so often, a vehicle would stop at the end of her lengthy drive, just off the highway. It changed over the years, of course, so many times, she gave up keeping track. Never knew what might show up next. It would just sit there. At first, it was a bit creepy. Each time she'd head down the drive, the engine would crank and the vehicle would pull away, leaving her bewildered, wondering why.

After a while, Nissa had an inkling of what it could mean, but never dared hope. She kept her basket handy and walked the fields each time it appeared, almost always in the Spring when the wildflowers bloomed. Today would provide an unexpected surprise as, sure enough, there it was. A newer model truck for once. And this time she heard it. The distant call of an old, familiar friend. Oh, it wasn't him, but so similar as to conjure the memory of one pair of flopping ears and that relentless tongue lapping at her face.

She closed her eyes, allowing her head to drift backward. She felt the breeze on her cheeks and a joy coaxed from a cherished memory filled her heart. The warm scent of wildflowers also like the summons of an old friend wafted into range. She stood as she reached for her basket and waved at the truck slowly pulling out of sight.

Nissa had crisscrossed these fields so often, she could have made the trip blindfolded. From one fragrant patch to the next, she gathered as many as she could carry, being unerringly led to one particular spot, as always. She used the time to remember the cute young boy who'd startled her so with his brash introduction. The same boy who'd presented that brave little soldier to her so proudly. The one who'd let her win a footrace because he believed it was what she needed from him. Oh, she knew from the start, but let him have what she believed he'd needed from her. The boy who gave up what he valued most to...well, we know.

She looked down to begin placing her lovingly gathered cashe, and there, on a cross crafted from an old floor plank, were the words she'd read so many times before. Like the truck she'd just seen, the paint was new, even if the message was not:

"HERE LIES GOODY, MY TRUEST FRIEND. HE DONE HIS BEST AND EARNED HIS REST. MAY JESUS HOLD HIM IN THE END."

Sam began to neigh in the distance, another message she couldn't ignore. She had responsibilities. Momma and the boys for now, but maybe one day...maybe one day soon...she still waited for so much more.

Terry G. Nunley

[queenxxxsupreme]

Baby Steps (dad!Arthur Morgan)

A/N: I know the techniques used in this story are wrong and should not be used I.E. using a male companion goat for a foal as they can be aggressive towards the foal, but this is purely fictional so just ignore it! Max is a part of the family and he is there for comedic relief! This is not for informational use! This is entertainment only! 

Warnings: None! just fluffy! 

This is a part 2 to Unlikely Choice which is here! But it’s also sort of a part of the dad!Arthur series I’ve unintentionally started....

***

The feeling of someone brushing their fingers over your hair woke you up. 

“Mornin’, pumpkin.” Arthur’s voice came from your left. He was laying on his side facing you, keeping himself occupied while you slept. 

He had been up for a while now. His struggles of sleeping had followed him from his life as an outlaw. He was lucky to get four hours some nights. 

“Mhmm.” You turned over to face him, keeping your eyes shut. You were still half asleep and you didn’t mind staying that way. 

“You goin’ back to sleep on me?” He chuckled softly, propping himself up on one elbow. 

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Morgan.”

“Well I do mind, Mrs. Morgan.” Arthur dipped his head down to kiss your forehead. “I’ve been up for a while now. Been thinkin’ about a lot. I don’t wanna think anymore. I need you to distract me.”

You sighed, opening your eyes to see him looking down at you. 

“A distraction, huh?”

“That would be appreciated.” There was a teasing glint in his blue eyes. 

“I’m sure it would.” You giggled. “What’s been goin’ through that head of yours?”

You reached up to brush his hair back. The blonde strands were getting a bit long and fell across his forehead. He’d need a haircut soon. 

“Little of this…. A lotta that.” He laid back on the bed, eyes finding the ceiling. 

You scooted as close to him as you could get and put your head on his shoulder. 

“Thinkin’ about how I’ve gotta fix the floorboards to the hayloft. They ain’t safe and I don’t want Daisy gettin’ hurt.”

“You can’t do that by yourself, can you?”

“Nah. I’ll need a couple extra hands.”

“I can help. Whatever I can’t help with, I’m sure Charles would be more than willing to come over and lend a hand.”

“Of course.” Arthur’s hand found the small of your back. “Also been thinkin’ bout a couple other odds and ends around here I gotta fix up.”

You looked up at him, sensing that there was something else, something he wasn’t saying. 

“Anything botherin’ you?” 

“Nothin’ you gotta worry about, pumpkin.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Well I’ll worry more if you don’t tell me.” 

Arthur was quiet for a few moments, lips pressed together in a firm line. 

You sat up and leaned back on one hand. You placed your hand over his heart, brows drawing together. He put his hand on yours, giving you a little squeeze. 

“I don’t want to have to worry so much about you both.” His voice was quiet. “This is our home. Don’t like feeling like we aren’t safe.”

“You’re still thinking about Micah, aren’t you?”

He sat up against the headboard. 

“Arthur, last we heard he was in Reno. We don’t gotta worry about him until we hear he’s closer.”

“I don’t want him any closer than Reno. Last we heard that was a few months ago.”

You looked down at the blanket that covered your legs. You smoothed out the material.

“Just…. Just want to be able to raise Daisy and any others we might have without him loomin’ over my head.” Arthur ran his hand over his face. 

“You want more?” You asked, your voice quiet as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

“Well…. I think it would be nice to try for one more, if you want. Only if you want.”

You moved around to straddle his thighs. 

“Daisy’s just…. She’s a dream, pumpkin.” Arthur placed his hands on your hips. “Still is. Sweet girl.”

“She’s definitely daddy’s girl.”

He smiled proudly. 

“Hey, maybe we could have a boy?” He suggested, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Even it out a little. One for you, one for me. I think it’d be nice.”

“Sure would be nice, but we don’t get to pick.”

“I know.” He nodded. His thumb on your hip began to trace circles in the material of your chemise. “Whatever we’d have, I’d love ‘em the same. Another girl would be cute too.”

“You’re adorable.” You leaned in to kiss his lips but just before you could kiss him, there was a knock on the door. 

“Mommy? Daddy?”

Arthur let out a soft sigh, moving his hands from your hips so that you could remove yourself from his lap. You settled on the bed next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“Come on in, sweetpea.” 

The door opened and Daisy walked in. Carson slipped past her, jumping up onto the bed. Arthur gave him a pat on the shoulder. 

“Good boy, Carson.”

“Good morning, sleepy head.” You greeted Daisy with a smile. “It’s a little early for you to be up, hon.”

“I want to go out to the barn.” She climbed up onto the bed and clambered across your legs. 

“Oh, I reckon it’s far too early to go to the barn.” Arthur teased her. 

“Nuh-uh! You and Papa Hosea are always up early and outside in the barn!”

“What are you so eager to go out to the barn for anyways?” He brushed a few pieces of her hair back behind her ear.

“I wanna see my horse.” She admitted bashfully. 

Ohhh. I see.” Arthur nodded. “Well, why don’t you give me and momma here a few minutes to get out of bed and get dressed. Is Papa Hosea up?”

“Yeah he is. He’s out on the porch.”

“Go on out there with him. Have him take you to the barn while I get up.”

“Okay, daddy!”

Daisy was off of the bed and dashing out of the door in the blink of an eye. Carson was right behind her, eager to start the day. 

“Today is a busy day, Arthur Morgan.” You patted his thigh before getting out of bed. “John and Abigail should be here with the kids before noon. I was thinkin’ of invitin’ Charles and Lucy over too.”

“Of course.” Arthur nodded his head. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face. “Hey, pumpkin?”

“Yes, my love?” You turned to look at him. 

“You know I love you, don’t ya?”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

“I know. You gave me a baby girl and this beautiful house.” You moved around the bed to stand between his legs. “Love you too, you know.” Your arms slipped around his neck. His hands brushed along your thighs as he smiled up at you.

“Wouldn’t have her without you.” He leaned forward to kiss your stomach. 

“You’re feelin’ awfully sweet this morning.” You brushed your fingers through his hair. “Anything else on your mind, cowboy?”

“Just my girls.”

***

Arthur kept his hand on the small of your back as he walked you out to the barn. 

“Hey, you think we should get Hosea a mule when Silver Dollar finally croaks?” He teased as he pushed the barn door open with his shoulder. 

“Don’t you be talkin’ crass about my horse, Arthur Morgan.” Hosea spoke from where he sat in the barn. He was on a stool outside of the stall Daisy’s horse was in. Daisy was on her knees at the bottom of the stall reaching through the bottom of the fence so she could pet the foal. 

“I didn’t expect you to hear me, old man.” 

“Silver Dollar’s outlived a lotta things.” You looked over to Arthur, giving him a little smile. “Doubt he’s gonna go anytime soon.”

“When he does, I’m not gettin’ another horse.” Hosea shook his head. Almost as if happy about his owner’s statement, the Turkoman at the end stall whinnied and stuck his head over the stall door. 

“Then how the hell are you gonna get around?” Arthur moved to greet Silver Dollar. “Hey, boy.”

“I’ll figure it out when the time comes. But you know what I am gonna do? I’m gonna invest in sheep.”

“Sheep?” Arthur repeated. “Don’t we go enough of those?”

While they carried on their conversation, you moved towards Daisy. 

“Have you picked out a name yet, Daisy?”

“Haven’t thought of one.” She frowned, rubbing along the filly’s back. 

“Come on. Let’s go in and keep her company.” You opened up the stall and walked in. 

Daisy followed behind you, sitting down in the straw beside the filly. 

“Well, does she like anything? Any treats you give her?”

“She likes the carrot pieces we gave her last night.”

“Really liked them.” Arthur leaned over the stall, folding his arms along the top as he looked down at you both. “Carrot’s a cute name, ain’t it sweetpea?”

“It’s a silly name.”

“Yeah. But hey, it’d fit right in with what I call you and momma.” He chuckled. “Sweetpea, pumpkin, and Carrot.”

“You’re silly!”

“What names do you like, Daisy?” You asked her, reaching out to pull a piece of straw from her hair. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Well what name do you got in your head, silly?” Arthur reached down to ruffle her hair. 

Daisy giggled again, reaching up to grab his hand. 

“In that storybook momma read me the other night, there was a girl named Piper in it.” 

“Piper, huh? Piper is a neat name.” 

“I like that name.” You looked down at the filly and rubbed her nose. “I think she’s a pretty girl.” 

“You think she could be a Piper?” Daisy asked. 

“Oh, definitely. Don’t you think the same, daddy?” You looked up at Arthur. 

“Piper suits her well.” 

“Now only if we could get the damn thing to walk.” Hosea muttered from his seat. Arthur sent him a glare. 

“Why do you think she won’t walk, papa?” Daisy looked over to him, a frown etched on to her lips. 

You looked up at Arthur, who rubbed his eyes. 

“It’s hard to tell, honey.” Hosea rubbed his neck. “But she looks like a strong one. I’m sure she’ll be walking in no time.”

“Can we make her walk?” Daisy’s eyes found you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but found that you didn’t know the right thing to say. You looked up at Arthur. 

“Yeah, sweetpea. Let’s give it a try now. She ate well last night. Should have some energy in her.” Arthur pulled open the stall door. “You go stand out with papa, Daisy.” 

“Okay, daddy.” 

Daisy moved out of the stall and instead peered through the fencing. 

“You wanna give me a hand, pumpkin?” He held his hand out for you. 

“Of course. Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

Arthur pulled you to your feet and brushed off your skirt. 

“You know how we had that calf a few winters ago that wouldn’t listen to me but loved you? Try to encourage her to get up.”

“You think she’ll listen to me?”

“It’s worth a try.” 

“Has she stood up at all?” 

“No.”

“Thought you would’ve learned by now not to trust greasy conmen, Arthur.” 

“Shut up, Hosea.” Arthur muttered. 

You took a piece of apple from the bowl Arthur brought into the barn and knelt down in front of Piper. You put the apple piece in front of her nose, letting her get a little nibble of the treat before pulling it away. 

She tried to follow you by stretching her neck but that only got her so far. 

“Come on, girl.” Arthur encouraged, giving her flank a little pat. “Gotta get up.” 

She lifted herself up on to her front hooves as if she wanted to stand but that was where she stopped. 

“Good girl.” You rubbed her head and let her nibble on the apple a little more. “Sweet Piper. Just a little more, sweetie.” 

“Come on, Piper!” Daisy anxiously spoke from outside of the stall. 

Piper looked like she was ready to stand up, but at the last second she seemed to give up and her front legs buckled. She fell back to the ground, whinnying and flicking her ears. 

You stood up, putting your hands on your hips. Arthur watched you from where he was knelt down behind Piper. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ bout, pumpkin?”

“Max.” 

“Oh no.” Arthur stood up, shaking his head. “That goat is not teachin’ this horse any bad habits.”

“He won’t teach her nothin’ but maybe to walk.” 

***

Max was a Saanen goat that you kept on the farm with a handful of other goats. 

Max was a handful to deal with. He was mischievous and liked to stir up trouble wherever he could. His favorite activity to do was harass your husband. Max was sweet and nice to you and Daisy. He just didn’t like many people. 

Max followed you to the barn, bleating loudly for attention. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Arthur muttered, blue eyes carefully watching Max as he trotted through the barn. 

“Just trust me.” You put your hand on his arm as you opened the door to Piper’s stall. 

Curious, Max followed you into the stall. Once he saw Arthur was in there, he bleated and scratched his front hoof against the floor. 

But then Piper let out a high pitched whinny, catching Max’s attention. The goat’s ears perked up and he redirected himself towards the foal. He bleated, sniffing curiously at Piper’s leg, and then he bounced around and dug his head at her flank. 

“What’s he doing?” Daisy asked. 

“I think he’s trying to get her to play with him.” Hosea rubbed Daisy’s shoulder. 

Piper placed her front hooves on the ground and whinnied once more. Max bleated. 

With bated breath, you watched as Piper stood up on shaky long legs. Daisy almost clapped her hands but Hosea stopped her, not wanting to spook the animals. 

Max sniffed Piper and then took off out of the stall. 

Piper watched him leave, ears perked up as she listened. 

“Well. That could’ve gone worse.” Arthur said. 

“She’s standing up!” Daisy exclaimed. 

Piper moved around a little, her knees shaking as she explored her stall. 

“When can I start to work with her? Like you did with Poncho?” Daisy’s question was directed to Arthur. 

“Baby steps, sweetpea. We can’t work her too hard.”

But daddy-!”

“Daisy.” You cut her off, keeping your voice gentle. “Don’t raise your voice at him.”

She frowned, looking down at her hands. 

“Maybe in a week or two, sweetpea. Gotta make sure Piper’s good on her feet.” Arthur patted the foal’s flank. 

The filly whinnied, then dipped her nose into the bucket of water in the corner of her stall. 

“I’m gonna go start breakfast.”  You told Arthur. 

“I reckon I’ll go down and see if Charles is up. See if he ain’t too busy and wants to give me a hand with the hayloft.”

“Okay. Be safe.” You leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you gently and chastly, placing his hand on your side. 

“I’ll let you know before I leave.” 

You nodded and turned to exit the barn. 

Arthur watched you leave, then his eyes flickered down to Daisy. 

“Daddy? You think I can take her out to the pasture? Maybe she wants to get some sun.” 

“Yeah, sweetpea. You can go out there with her. S’long as you’re careful and don’t get behind her when she’s standin’.” 

“I’ll go out and watch her.” Hosea offered, moving away from the stall. “Let you get some work done. Make yourself useful.”

“So you get to sit on your ass while I do all the hard work?” 

“Precisely.” Hosea chucked. 

Arthur shook his head, a grin pulling at his lips.

Taglists:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[taishispit]

Hello and welcome to tumblr sweetie ❤️

May I ask for a fluffy drabble for Taishiro? Maybe where he tries to confess to his s/o and fails at least 3 times because herowork and his internships and other distractions? Just an idea if you feel comfortable with it~ anyway: showers you with love because, why not <3

thank you for the request omg, i love this idea so much omg 🤚 i’m gonna make this a self insert. is it self indulgent? idk 🧍🏻

y/n = your name | y/h/n = your hero name

word count: 1,576

warnings: reader kinda swears a lot, sorry aldjdjskj

effortless confessions

“please jus’ let everythin’ go smoothly this time,” taishiro sighed to himself and rubbed his temples.

he leaned back into his chair, pouting up at the office ceiling, and tugged at his blond locks as some way to relieve some stress. he’d tried to pour his emotions out to you all month, but he failed every time whether it be due to his interns, a villain, you, or even himself. just talking to you was flustering, he couldn’t look you in the face without becoming weak in the legs. for sometime you thought he disliked you, but he was too nice to you to hate you, so you came to a conclusion that he’s just a funky guy. he is a bit funky, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t look you in the eyes. taishiro just hoped one day you’d realize his feelings so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself every time he tried to confess to you.

“hey boss, are you feeling okay?” your voice echoing in his office disrupted his irritating thoughts, and brought him back to the present. “you look tired. is there anything you need me to do for you or get you? if you want, i could have some takoyaki delivered.” you said, perching yourself comfortably in one of the chairs in front of his desk that was covered in papers and memorabilia. he cleared his throat, hiding the fact that he was trying not to giggle at how cute and comfy you looked in front of him. he was so afraid of making you uncomfortable or making your relationship unprofessional if that’s not what you wanted. “well, er, i jus’ have a lot on my mind right now. i’m kinda conflicted, but i’ll be fine. no need to worry ‘bout me, y/n.” he smiled sweetly at you. “i wouldn’t mind some takoyaki though. get yourself some if you want, and if you don’t mind, could you ask my interns if they’d like some? you can order, i’ll pay.” he reached over his desk to pat your head before leaving you red faced in his office.

taishiro, kirishima, tamaki, tetsutetsu, and you all lazed around in the fatgum agency lounge, scarfing down takoyaki. kirishima and tetsutetsu are conversing and giggling with each other while tamaki listens. they look at you and taishiro, who’s sitting next to you, every so often and go back to giggling. you roll your eyes and laugh to yourself. you side eye the hero beside you to see him deep in thought while he stuffed himself with his favorite food. you brushed your knee against his to get his attention and tried to ignore the heat rising to your ears. “are you sure you’re okay? is something wrong?” you rested your hand on his bicep, looking up at him with furrowed brows. his heart clenched at your genuine concern for him, you made him feel so cared for, and it set something off in him. “will ya come talk with me in my office, please?” his voice was a little shaky, and you were stilled in fear. ‘i’m fucking fired, he knows i ate the mochi he left in the fridge last week-’ your racing thoughts were cut short when taishiro stood up and put his hand on your shoulder. tamaki, surprisingly met eyes with you, softly smiling at you. you grinned back, before leaving the lounge with taishiro.

“please don’t fire me, i didn’t realize that mochi was yours until you mentioned how sad you were that someone ate it. i promise i was going to buy you more, but i kept procrastinating and i really will. please-” a loud snort cut off your pleads. taishiro was slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle any chuckle he could possibly let slip from his lips. “we’re not here for me to fire you, especially not over mochi, y/n. i’m here, with you, to tell you something that i’ve been trying to for a while now.” he scratched the back of his neck, and tried to compose himself. “you’ve been my partner for some time now, m-my colleague, erm, and i admire you a lot. you’re a hard worker, your fighting’s beyond impressive, and i jus’ want-” a thunderous crash and screams from outside of fatgum’s agency caught the attention of everyone in the building.

“fuck! my ass, you’re gonna leave bruises on it, dick!” your voice rang louder than any crash you’d heard in the entire fight as you did, in fact, land on your ass, tumbling backwards. the group of villains was down to 1 deviant compared to the fatgum team’s 4 heroes. although, your opponents were left with their strongest member while yours had used up all his fat protecting you. fatgum had become a shield for you, despite your protests. the hero was reckless and used zero strategy, just to make sure you were safe. your side ached, but that didn’t stop you from picking yourself up to give the villain your all. “you’re a fucking dumbass if you think you can take down the fatgum team without any obstacles. get fucked!” you screamed at the villain with all your might, landing a bone shattering kick to the face and knocking them unconscious almost instantly. “suneater, restrain them! red riot, real steel, go help anyone who’s injured!”

after an ungodly amount of soft slaps to side of fatgum’s face, his eyelashes fluttered, hooded golden eyes meeting your own. “that asshole must’ve sent me to heaven.” the head in your lap nuzzled your thighs, soft hair tickling you through your hero suit. “n-no big guy, how hard did you hit your head?” warmth spread across your face becuase of him for the bagillionth time now. you held one of his cheeks in your hand, checking his face for any cuts or scrapes. without hesitation, his hand lazily reached up to your cheek, mimicking you. “y/h/n, you truly are an angel, taking care of me like this.” he gently caressed your cheek with bruised knuckles. “i’ve tried to tell you this for so long, but things kept gettin’ in the way.” out of your view, red riot was walking towards the two of you. trying to keep your attention on him, fatgum shooed his intern, who was oblivious to the situation, with the flailing of his free hand. thankfully, the poor boy got the hint after a second, and crept away with a big grin on his face. he couldn’t wait to tell the other interns that what they had been waiting forever for was finally happening. you could faintly hear a certain red haired boy yelling about who did something first and how tamaki and tetsutetsu owed him money. “i’ve never been too great with expressin’ my personal feelings, but there was no way i could hide it anymore.” he took a deep breath, preparing to pour his heart out to the amazing hero he’d hired what felt like so long ago. “i didn’t realize when i hired you all that time ago that i’d be hirin’ the best partner a guy could ever ask for. you’re always there for me whether it be as a sidekick or friend. you’re so good to me despite what i look like, you’ve treated me as an equal since day one, and i couldn’t be happier to’ve met someone like you.” he whimpered, shutting his eyes tight, finally just blurting it out. “i fell hard, and i promise i’m not talkin’ ‘bout on my head. i fell for the hero, who’s arms i’m in right now, my hero. i fell for y/h/n, for y/n.” your eyes were glossing over with tears, but you couldn’t help but grin. before he could even fully open his eyes, you fisted what was remaining of his hoodie, and had his lips on your own. his eyes widened before he melted into your touch, kissing you back, and holding you against him as tenderly as possible.

“you really asked if you were getting fired when your long time crush was trying to confess his feelings to you?” kirishima held his gut as he tried to muffle any noise that came out of him. you were all back at the fatgum agency in the lounge again, the interns more invested in you and taishiro than the fight that’d just taken place not that long ago. “listen i- he- the thing is,” you tried to stammer out any possible excuse you could to defend yourself. giving up, you shoved your face into taishiro’s chest, who was glued to your side ever since you pulled him in for that kiss. you heard multiple chuckles. taishiro’s chest heaved with laughter while he rubbed your shoulder soothingly. no sane person couldn’t smile at the sound of his sweet giggles. he could feel your mouth twitch into a small grin against him. looking down at you with a loving look in his eyes, he pulled you by your chin, forcing you to look into his golden irises. there was not a doubt in your mind that something beautiful was blooming between you and your hero. “geez, i can’t believe we’ve been watching you two dummies pining after each other for so long.” tetsutetsu teased, tamaki and kirishima nodding in agreement, a satisfied smile plastered on all three of their faces. “me neither.” you and taishiro said simultaneously, and pulled each other in for another kiss.

i’m sorry this one took so long, i really hope you liked it, thank you for the request !!! 🥺💕

[biisexualemma]

better off. oscar diaz

word count: 1491

warnings: sad kinda

requested: “Hi 👋🏼 idk if you're taking request but can you maybe please write a Oscar imagine based on Ariana's song better off? Love your writing 🤍”

plot: "Steering clear of any headaches to start, And if we’re being honest, I’d rather your body than half of your heart, Or jealous-ridden comments, That come when you let in them feelings that I don’t want, I never let ‘em know too much, Hate gettin’ too emotional, I’m better off without him”

a/n: if you haven’t listened to this song then wtf are you doing?????? listen to ariana’s entire discography now or you’re missing out

masterlist

your best friend jumped, startled when you came barging into your shared apartment, slamming the door behind you. "he's an asshole," you huffed. you ran your fingers through your hair, tossing your jacket and keys on the sideboard. "i'm sick of him."

"leave him then," she was only half listening, you could tell by the way she kept her eyes stayed locked on the tv screen in front of her and her hand deep in a bowl of popcorn. you paced back and forth, taking deep breaths to calm down. you tried to keep it together a lot of the time but this was your best friend, she'd seen you through everything.

"i can't!" you raised your voice. you quickly checked yourself though, huffing and slumping onto the couch next to where your best friend sat. she handed you the bowl of popcorn, you mumbled a thanks and dug your hand in, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. this happened a lot, she was used to dealing with you like this.

"where does he get off telling me what to do?" another mouthful of popcorn. your friend glanced at you, your mouth stuffed, eyebrows furrowed as you continued to rant. she looked at you with disgust. you didn't notice. "i'm not his bitch! i'm my own bitch. i can talk to whoever i want!"

"please stop talking with your mouthful," she muttered, cringing. you didn't hear her though, you were too caught up with your own problems to worry about talking with your mouthful.

"i can talk to other guys without him breathing down my neck, and making stupid, sly comments," another handful of popcorn went in your mouth. you were a big stress eater. "and i try to be civil about it but you've met him— once he's got an idea in his head he can't let it go. he's the most stubborn person i've ever met."

your best friend had heard it all before of course. you often ranted about oscar like this. and she'd tell you to leave him, because what's the point of being in a relationship that makes you this angry all the time? you never did though. you would go to him the next day, or he would come to you, there would be a half-hearted apology, kiss and make up, and that was it. you'd had it this time though, you really felt like you couldn't take much more from him.

he would be dismissive of you in front of his friends, he would pick and choose when to pay attention to you. it was hard to be around him sometimes, you felt like you were hanging around waiting for him to take an interest in you. you tried not to start arguments with him but it was hard. you were too opinionated. it killed you to bite your tongue sometimes. other times you just couldn't help yourself. this had been one of those times.

"leave him then," she repeated. this was her only opinion. she stopped getting so invested in your boyfriend problems a long time ago because it was the same thing every time. this was all she had to say on the topic anymore.

"i can't," you put down the popcorn, groaning as you threw your head back against the couch. "it can be so good when he stops acting like an ass. he's sweet and he cares. it's good."

you tilted your head, glancing at your friend who sat in the same position, watching you vent. you furrowed your brows. she gave you a soft smile, trying to reassure you just a little bit. she was a good friend, you were glad you had her around to rant to. she was a good listener.

"want my honest opinion?" you nodded. she sighed. "oscar's a good guy. but you're not happy with him anymore. he's clearly got his own stuff going on that he takes out on you and that's not fair," she reached over, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tight. "boys get jealous, and argumentative, but i think it affects you this much because you know deep down he's not the same person he used to be— and you know that you deserve better than how he treats you."

you bit down on your lip hard. you knew she was right. you just nodded, tilting your head back so you could stare at the ceiling again.

"hey," she muttered, moving her arm to your shoulder and pulling you closer to her. "it's ok."

you nodded again, resting your head on her shoulder. "i know," your voice was quiet now. "that i'm better off, it's just hard— i love him."

"i know," she nodded, squeezing her arms around you tighter. "but you should to talk to him."

—

it'd been a few days since you'd last spoken to oscar. he'd texted you a couple of times but you didn't answer, you had to sort yourself out before you could speak to him. you had to know what you were going to say to him.

"hey," he swung the door open, eyebrows furrowed. he looked you over, obviously concerned when you hadn't responded to any of his messages. "what's up? i texted you."

"i know," he stepped aside, letting you in. you found yourself pacing again. "we need to talk."

you turned to see him standing on the other side of the room, suddenly you were nervous. his brown eyes looked confused, he didn't look scary like he often fronted as— he looked worried. you immediately felt like this was wrong. guilt hit you, you didn't want to hurt him.

he hesitated before he spoke. "about what?"

"i love you," you blurted out. his eyebrows furrowed deeper, he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could. "but you're not yourself, and you haven't been for a while."

oscars face softened.

"and i can't take this hot and cold with you," you shook your head. you ran your finger through your hair, pulling it tight as you tried to get your words out. "it's too much. i never know what you're thinking. you don't talk to me."

"what's your point?" he was waiting for you to say it. he expected you to leave eventually. and it was his fault, he knew it. you were right. "if you wanna leave, just leave already— you don't need to drag it out."

you frowned. "i don't want to leave," you were quiet. "i just don't understand what happened. i don't know why you don't want me anymore— you used to talk to me about everything."

"who said i don't want you anymore?" he was quick to get defensive. truth was, oscar loved you more than anything, he just couldn't be who you wanted him to be right now.

"it's obvious," you shrugged. you tried to keep up a stern expression, but it was hard when he looked at you like that. you gulped. "i don't feel like you want me around anymore. you never pay attention to me, and when you do, you get jealous over nothing or we're arguing over nothing— i'm tired of it."

he was quiet. he was angry at you. he just didn't know what to do. he didn't know how to stop you. he knew he'd been different lately. he had so much on his plate, he felt angry all the time and you always caught the brunt of it. but he could never talk to you about that stuff, he would never drag you into anything gang related. but it still weighed on him, and he was distant because of it, he couldn't think about anything else. it wasn't your fault.

so he couldn't argue, because everything you'd said was true. this talk had been a long time coming. he didn't want to lose you, but maybe it was for the best. maybe he needed to focus on other things, sort his priorities out.

"ok," was all he said. you expected more. you wanted more from him. you didn't want to be right this time.

"that's it?"

he shrugged. "you're right. i'm not good for you right now," you were surprised he was agreeing with you, he never did that. "i still love you, but you're right."

it broke your heart. this would've been much easier if he'd just yelled at you. you could've hated him, you wanted to hate him so it'd be easier to leave. instead, your heart wrenched and your throat tightened. you were never publicly a very emotional person, so you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting.

"i love you, too," you mumbled. suddenly everything felt wrong. but you couldn't go back now. it's for the best. it's for the best. you repeated over and over again, hoping it'd sink in so the pit in your stomach would go away. "so i'm gonna go."

it's for the best. you're better off.

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Operation Sweet Surprise (1/3)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader (Romantic or Platonic)

Warnings: roadkill and animal skulls

Description: It’s Bo and Vincent’s Birthday and you’re determined to make it special. You can’t do it alone, however. So you enlist the help of the youngest Sinclair.

The alarm on your bedside table went off at precisely 7 AM. Your eyes shot open and you couldn’t contain the smile that immediately took over your whole face. You were quick to shut off the alarm, glancing at the calendar to confirm you were correct. Today was the day. September 18th. More than likely, neither twin remembered the date so that made it all the easier for you to get away with your master plan. You’d been planning your little scheme for weeks now and it was all about to pay off. Operation Sweet Surprise was in full swing.

Yesterday, you were meticulous in your preparations, making extra sure you had your game plan mapped out completely. You had taken stock of what ingredients the Sinclairs already had. They didn’t have a lot, but they had some of the basics: flour, white sugar, butter, and eggs. The flour and sugar had been sitting there mostly untouched for years and were a little expired, but they would have to do. You couldn’t afford to buy everything new and you had to prioritize. Luckily, you’d had a little money from doing jobs Bo gave you around town. They were only small tasks here and there and he’d only give you a few dollars out of what they’d gotten from visitors, but it was enough for your purposes. You found an old cookbook with fairly simple recipes for both desserts that didn’t call for anything too fancy. Everything you needed was well within your ability to procure.

After that, all you had left to do was appeal to the youngest Sinclair to ask for a huge favor and hope he’d indulge you. Luckily, he had. That’s why he was your favorite by far.

You made your way to Lester’s cabin on foot. It wasn’t too far outside of town, but it was still a bit of a long walk. Obviously, you couldn’t ask Bo or Vincent to take you or you’d spoil the surprise and that was non-negotiable. Thankfully, the sun was on its way down, so it wasn’t miserably hot outside, making for a rather peaceful mini-hike.

Once Lester’s cabin came into your line of sight, you eagerly jogged up to the front door. You knocked, announcing yourself so he wouldn’t be alarmed as to who was knocking on his door right before nightfall. The door swung open to reveal Lester, toothy grin and all.

“Y/N! What can I do ya for? What’re ya doin’ out and ‘bout so late? ‘Specially all the way out here?”  

“I came to see you! I have a huge favor I need to ask and you’re the only one who can help me!” You said, buttering him up so he’d say yes.

“Alright then, lay it on me.” he said, matching your enthusiasm.

“I’m planning on baking a birthday cake and pie for your brothers and I need you to take me into town so I can get the rest of the ingredients.” You said hopefully “I just need a ride, that’s it! I swear! And maybe, if you could let me borrow your kitchen that’d be incredible too! If it’s not too much trouble! I promise to clean up everything when I’m done!”

“Wow! That’s awful nice of ya!” Lester said supportively. His grin faltered for a moment, though, “Ya sure ya want it to be me that takes ya?”

“Pretty please, Lester! I’ll do anything! You’re my only hope!” you said dramatically as you clasped your hands together with the best pout you could muster through your giggles, begging him to help you.

“Well, I don’t suppose I can leave a damsel in distress. Sure, I’ll give ya a ride!” he said happily, “When did ya need to go?”

“Tomorrow morning! I’ll meet you where the road’s washed out at seven-thirty sharp.”

“Square deal, I’ll be there.” He said reaching out his hand to seal the deal. You dodged the hand and practically rammed your body into his, squeezing him in a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Lester! I’d be lost without you!” you said as you released him, smile beaming.

“N-no, problem. Anything for you…a-and Bo and Vinny, of course. They’re my brothers after all.” Lester stuttered out, still red from your hug.

“Thanks again! Okay! I’ll get out of your hair! I’ll bring all the pots and pans and other ingredients with me tomorrow! You’re the best, Lester!” you said as you began to jog back towards Ambrose.

“Hey, wait! It’s gettin’ dark out! I’ll give ya a ride back, if ya like!” Lester called out as he closed the door behind him, following you.  

“You don’t have to do that. I couldn’t abuse your kindness any further.” You said only half-joking, “It’s okay, it’s not that far a walk.”

“Guess it’s not out of my way then.” Lester said matter-of-factly as he opened the passenger side door of his truck. You glanced between the long walk ahead and back to Lester’s hopeful expression.

“Well, if you’re going to twist my arm about it…” you said playfully as you walked up to Lester’s truck. He helped you up and closed the door behind you. You two got lost in conversation as you drove into the night toward Ambrose. By the time you arrived back, the ride didn’t seem nearly long enough.  

You hopped out of bed and were quick to change into an outfit you wouldn’t mind getting dirty. Baking had a propensity to get messy so you were prepared to let the flour fall as it may. You pulled out a duffle bag you’d take from the storage house a few days ago and slung it over your shoulder. Last night, after the twins finally went to sleep, you loaded the bag up with everything you would need to make their birthday treats.

It was incredibly important everything go perfectly. It was a very special day whether the Sinclair Twins cared about it or not. It was their birthday and you were determined to make them feel special, damn it. All of the Sinclair brothers had spent far too many years being ignored and undervalued. Continuing that tradition simply wouldn’t do.  

Over the last few weeks, you’d managed to weasel the information you wanted out of them, little by little. They told you that birthdays weren’t ever a huge ordeal for them. At most, their parents would buy them a cake and that would be it. The cake was always a vanilla cake with white frosting, which also happened to be Vincent’s favorite. Something you were sure Bo was bitter about. You tried multiple times to subtly badger Bo into telling you what he would have wanted if he had gotten a choice, but he always said he didn’t like sweets and shut you down. With a little more time, you noticed the one food Bo would consistently linger on - whether in an old coupon clipping or in reruns on TV - was apple pie. You noticed that each time, without fail, when Bo’s eyes would land on a picture of old-fashioned apple pie, he’d stare just a bit longer before moving on. Sometimes you even caught the smallest sigh escape his lips as he moved on after a glimpse of the dessert. That was all you needed. Once you had your answers, everything came together.

You quietly poked your head out of your room. Both Bo and Vincent’s doors were wide open, signifying both of them were up and about. You made your way down the stairs, listening for any signs of life in the house. It was silent so far, though that only meant Bo wasn’t there. Vincent could be lurking right behind you and you’d be none the wiser, the stealthy bastard. You paused at the bottom of the stairs to scan for movement. Nothing. You made a beeline for the front door and made your way down the porch and along the gravel road. Vincent was most likely working in the House of Wax. Bo was probably in the gas station. You just hoped he was too preoccupied to notice you. If he saw you trying to sneak by with a giant duffle bag, he might get the wrong idea. Thankfully, when you neared the gas station, you could hear his music blaring, meaning he was working in the back or downstairs. A shiver ran down your spine and you tried not to think about what he was getting up to. You picked up the pace toward the edge of town.

             All the tension in your shoulders and the back of your mind disappeared when you laid eyes on Lester’s truck, waiting just like he promised. He was leaning up against the front, vigorously rubbing at something in his hand with an old, ratty cloth. You couldn’t help but find the scene endearing, his tongue poking out in careful concentration. You whistled to get his attention and his head shot up at your sound. His classic, goofy grin overtook his features. Whether he meant it or not, Lester wore his heart on his sleeve, and you treasured that.

You smiled back as you could practically see an imaginary tail wagging behind him at your arrival, his big brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. Always so keen to be around you, Lester never made you feel like a burden. He was the first to make you feel like Ambrose was your home, invested himself in talking to you and sharing with you. He welcomed you with open arms and proved himself to be quite reliable. It was always a welcome relief to be around someone who so honestly wanted to be around you. Not that you didn’t enjoy Bo or Vincent’s company, but they could be rather closed off and many times you were left not knowing how to feel or how they felt about you. That was never a question with Lester. You rather liked that about him.

“Thanks again for helping me out, Lester!” You said as you carefully made your way across the water. Lester wrapped up his cloth and tossed it to the driver seat before reaching out a hand to help you across the rest of the way over. As you made it to the other side, you dropped the bag at your feet, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Wasn’t any trouble,” Lester said, “Let me get that for ya.” He leaned down and hefted your bag over his shoulder and carried it toward the truck. He placed it on the floor of the passenger side before turning back to face you, “I tried to clean the truck up as best as I could, but uh, it’s still a bit rough. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re giving me a free ride. I’ve got no room to complain. Besides, I love your truck. It’s got style.” You said encouragingly. You noticed Lester rub the back of his neck as he looked down and smiled to himself. He did that every time he got a compliment. His truck might have been unconventional and certainly fragrant to say the least, but like he said; with time, even you got used to the smell. Now, it was just another part of him that you accepted like anything else. You two hopped in the truck and took off down the road toward town.

“Oh! Get a look at this!” Lester suddenly piped up as he scooped up his cloth from beside him “I found it by the road this mornin’! It was a raccoon ‘fore it started rottin’.” He held out a gory animal skull for you to admire.

“H-how about that?” you said looking the skull over. This wasn’t really in your area of expertise, but Lester seemed excited about it, so of course you listened closely.

“Yeah, pretty neat, right? Chased away some buzzards peckin’ at it ‘fore they messed it up. I have ‘bout five different skulls at home - kinda like this one - but this one’s nice and put together, ya see?” He was ecstatically pointing out the features of the skull as he went on, “The others I got are in bits and pieces. So, I reckon I can clean it up nice and set it on the dash next to…uh…sorry. I’m ramblin’ again. Ya don’t wanna hear this…” he trailed off as the joy in his voice turned apologetic.

“Hey, don’t apologize. I like to hear about the things you like.” You said energetically, trying to hype him up again, “If it matters to you, it matters to me. And I think it’ll look great on your dash. You’ll have to show me the rest of your collection sometime!”

“Really?” Lester asked lighting up again.

“Course I would! Why not?” you asked.

“No one ever wanted to hear ‘bout this sort of stuff, is all.” He said forcing his gaze to the road, “Usually just tell me to hush up.”

“They said that to you?”

“Yeah…I get it, though. Bothers some folks.” Lester said as he tried to shake off the shame in his voice, “I used to collect little bones and rocks when I was a kid. I’d clean ‘em up and show ‘em to everyone. I showed ‘em to my folks. And that foster family I had. And kids at school – some teachers too - but uh…I guess it ain’t too interestin’. They were too busy is all. And I don’t ever wanna bother no one.”

“Well, I think it’s cool.” You said resolutely. You were absolutely fuming inside. You knew Lester was neglected by his parents, but the fact that no one after them ever tried to engage with his interests was upsetting. Your heart broke thinking about little Lester trying so hard to make friends only to be ignored; not just by other kids, but by adults and educators who should have been on his side. He was just a kid trying to share what he loved and they told him to shut up. Well, you weren’t going to do that, “I definitely couldn’t have told you what animal that used to be. I wouldn’t know that from an opossum or a fox. How can you tell the difference?”

“They key is in the ridges on top. This one’s nice and smooth, see? It’s definitely a raccoon!” Lester explained excitedly. He was delighted as you continued asking more questions about the trinkets in his car and where he’d picked them up. Lester told story after story; and the childlike joy all over his face was reason enough for you to keep asking for more all the way up until you realized you had made it to the grocery store.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter 11

               A special thanks to @statell​ for everything you do for my stories

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Eleven

The following day, Jamie drove Michael to look at a car. It was perfect for his needs and he paid cash for it. Once they were done, Jamie suggested dropping in on Claire and he would just stay after their visit. Michael was all for a glass of whisky and texted her they were on the way.

Claire heard two vehicles pull up to her stairs and went outside to welcome the men into soft comfortable chairs on her patio. Jamie looked at her for a long minute, appreciating the long cotton dress she wore and hair up in a ponytail. She took his breath away, but was soon snapped out of his reverie with a glass of whisky. The three of them seemed happy and relaxed and the whisky flowed. Stories about training horses and buying quality broodmares were shared and Jamie laughed while telling how he acquired the Runner’s dam.

“It was ridiculous inching up with another bidder. That fucken guy was so cheap it was turnin into torture for all of us. I decided to offer the askin price and Chad could kiss my ass.”

“Wait!”

Claire put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Did you say Chad? You outbid Chad, Jamie”

“Aye, he was plenty pissed too. I told him to grow up and find another mare.”

Claire stood up and paced around her patio. Suddenly it all made sense. That’s why Chad went out with her, to get information about Jamie, or Runner. She sat down and stayed quiet until Michael left, and she was plenty worked up by that time.

“Maybe Chad had something to do with poisoning the horses, Jamie. I don’t know how yet, but I always wondered why he wanted another date when we didn’t seem to get along.”

“I know him, how could he slip in and poison the feed without someone seein him?”

“I don’t know and forgive me for saying this, but I think Isobel had something to do with it too. Only because her horse was not affected. Porcelain was not poisoned but she did beg me to get her away because she was afraid of Isobel.”

Jamie got very quiet and listened to Claire feeling the truth in what she said.

“It was a sudden trip to Scotland she went on, maybe she was afraid of bein implicated, so she left. I remembered she cried and carried on for days when she got home. An exaggerated response because she couldn’t give two shits for those horses.”

“Why is she staring at Runner in the middle of the night. What can she gain from hurting him?”

“I don’t know Sassenach, but it’s time to push her a bit and hope she makes a mistake. Right now I need yer body mo chridhe. Come inside, I have somethin to show ye.”

Claire was hungry for him and peeled his clothes and boots off slowly and then worshiped his naked body until he almost came in her mouth. He pulled her away from him and told her to remove her dress while he watched. She slipped out of the dress and waited.

“Bra and panties too, love.”

She stood in front of him raking her eyes over his gorgeous body.

“Come here.”

When Claire was seconds away from her orgasm, Jamie heard Molly come in and the front door close. He covered Claire’s mouth with his hand and pushed her off the cliff she was on, keeping his hand in place until her moaning stopped. She gave him a come fuck me look and he tumbled into his own hurricane of release, heroically quiet.

Most of the next day, Claire and Runner worked with Michael, giving Jamie some time to consider the Chad connection and possibly Isobel. He picked up the phone and dialed Ned Gowen. The older gentleman’s voice gave Jamie goosebumps and made his heart hurt. Ned had been a friend of the family for decades and his voice reminded him of home.

“Yes laddie, I added terms to your contract with Dunsany for the dissolution of marriage. Ye havena married the lass and doesna sound like any possibility in the future. If you want her out, tell her to leave. The loan contract was signed by you and Dunsany. Isobel was not a signer and as long as you are current on yer payments, she canna force you to sell. It may be harsh for Isobel, but she is entitled to nothing.”

Jamie couldn’t believe his ears and struggled through the rest of the conversation. He wanted to get up to the house and pack all of Isobel’s belongings right away. Isobel could rent an apartment somewhere, but he wasn’t paying for it. Maybe this was enough to drive her back to Scotland.

Fortunately, he gave it some thought before impulsively kicking Isobel out and though it was a dreaded phone call, he decided to touch base with Dunsany. He had given Dunsany double and triple payments when his foals and yearlings sold, consequently he was far ahead in paying off his debt. He hoped that would count for something. It was the dinner hour in Scotland, so he made the call before he lost his nerve.

Dunsany was not surprised at this development in the relationship of Jamie and his daughter, in fact, it was expected.

“If Isobel has taken no interest in your breeding business than it stands to reason she will not share in the profits. She isn’t smart enough to realize this so I imagine you will have quite a time with her. If she wants to come back to Scotland, her mother will welcome her with open arms. If she decides to stay in Kentucky I will pay for her housing. You can pass that along to her please and I will wait to hear from her.”

“Jamie, I financed your operation because you acted honorably, agreeing to marry Isobel when she was with child. I make money with honorable men every day and knew this was a good investment, no matter the turn out between you and my daughter. So far I was right, although I’m not happy with the doubling up on your payments, it's costing me too much in interest. You can pay your monthly installment or pay me off so I can reinvest.”

That was all there was to it. Jamie hung up the phone feeling like a man freed from four years of imprisonment and couldn’t sit still with his happy energy. He went out to watch Claire and Runner, also getting some sunshine on his face.

Claire was breezing and Runner was open-mouthed from her holding back on the bit. He wanted to bust out and gallop, it was obvious how much he loved to run. Jamie smiled as they came closer. Michael called to her to move him eight feet to the left and Claire was able to direct him with no problem. Other horses were working out and when three of them came close to Runner he pinned his ears back and almost broke out of Claire’s control. She let him accelerate a bit but still held him back.

Jamie sat against a tree and dialed Isobel.

“Something important has come up Isobel. I need you to call me back right away.”

Jamie closed his eyes to the bright sun and wondered what kind of shit storm Isobel was going to cause over being kicked out of the house. He picked up his vibrating phone.

“What is it, Jamie.”

“I need ye to come home as soon as ye can. I’ll be packin your stuff tonight because ye are movin out of my house. Yer father said he will pay your housing if ye stay in America, or ye can go home to Scotland.”

“You must have hit yer head today if you think I’m leavin with nothin. Ha, that’s rich Jamie. You will pay off the loan to my father and sell the farm so we can split it. Then I will leave happily.”

“By contract, you are entitled to nothin. You are not a signer on the finance agreement, more importantly, you have not contributed five minutes of your time to this business in the four years we have been here.”

“Bullshit! I am not stupid Jamie Fraser.”

“I think ye should call yer father and stay calm so he can explain it to ye. I’ll pack yer things and ye can take what ye need for the short term. You can stay in a hotel until ye find suitable housing or go home. If ye don’t come for your things tonight I will leave them outside the door for ye.”

“No!” Isobel was shrieking into the phone, so loud that Jamie held his cell away from his ear. “No, you canna do this to me, fuck ye. I will be home for dinner and bed like every night.”

“Perfect, I could use some help gettin it all packed. Goodbye Isobel.”

When Jamie looked up, Claire and Michael were staring at him. They could hear Isobel from the track. Claire jumped off Runner and pulled his saddle off. She gave Jamie a long look as she walked to the wash rack.

Jamie ran after her and helped kneed Runner’s muscles with his permanent smile. Claire had never seen him so happy.

“I am very curious about what has made you so happy.”

“I am movin Isobel out of my house, tonight. She isn’t happy about it but I’m doin it anyway. I spoke to Ned Gowen earlier and he told me the financing contract was signed by Dunsany and me, not Isobel. If we had married, the property and assets would be split according to Kentucky law. Failing to marry means she has rights to nothin. Her father will support her so she’s not in the streets and maybe she will go back to Scotland. I can only hope.”

They walked out into one of the pastures to enjoy the Indian summer warmth and let Runner chow down on grass. Jamie touched her cheek and then kissed her.

“Jamie, I can’t stop thinking about Dustin today. Can you think of a reason he doesn’t call or email me? I’m curious about how he is doing, and I miss him. It hurts my feelings that he just forgot about me after being attached at the hip for almost two years.

“He loves ye Sassenach. I imagine he’s suffering with a broken heart and talkin to ye will make it worse.”

Claire looked at him like he lost his mind.

“It’s true, love. I saw it the first day you were here. He will come around when he’s ready.”

Claire was deep in thought when they walked back. She wondered if it were true about Dustin and wondered why she never noticed. Jamie kissed her deeply and said he would be fighting with Isobel all night so he would not see her after work. He held her for several minutes, one last kiss, and she was gone.

Jamie stared at the enormous job of packing all the clothes, makeup, lotions, shampoo, and a thousand other things. This was way bigger than he estimated, and he would need a ton of boxes. He dashed into town and bought a dozen boxes in three sizes. Coming back, he saw Isobel’s Cadillac in the driveway and took a deep breath.

Isobel walked swiftly toward him looking like she would stab him in the face if she could.

“What are all those boxes for?”

“I told ye, yer movin out tonight. I suggest ye find a suitable hotel to stay at until ye find somethin to rent.” He moved toward the bedroom and started building the boxes. When the tape gun made that horrible noise, Isobel snapped. She grabbed the tape gun and kicked the boxes all over the bedroom.

“I’m callin the police to arrest ye, ye piece of shit!”

Jamie grabbed another box but could not get the tape from Isobel. It looked like she was having a stroke with her purple face and wide eyes. Jamie walked back to his truck where he had a second tape gun and then started on another box.

“I’m callin Jenny. She will stop this, she is at least sane.”

“Enough Isobel! Stop acting like a spoiled four-year-old! You have hated every minute in Kentucky, I can’t remember the last time you were here, and there’s no reason for ye to stay. None whatsoever. I’m not sellin the business and yer father doesn’t want any more double payments. I know ye lied to me about being pregnant, if ye don’t get out tonight, yer father will know as well. Now you can help me or leave me to my task.”

“Ye prick!” With that Isobel ran out the door and sped away in her Cadillac.

Jamie continued until he saw Michael at his bedroom door looking like he had seen a ghost.

“What’s wrong with ye Michael?”

“Did you tell Isobel I was staying in the guest room for a while?”

“I did, well I sent her a text message ye were here, why.”

“I doubt she read it. She came bursting into the house like hellfire was chasing her. She called someone and paced like an animal while she talked. She told this person he was an idiot and if he hadn’t botched the poisoning this would all be over. She also told him she was getting kicked off the property, so it was now or never.”

“Holy shit.”

Jamie sat on the bed and stared into space for several minutes. Both men were shocked by what Isobel revealed not knowing Michael was in the house. Jamie grabbed his phone and dialed Angus hoping the guys had not left yet.

“Angus, can ye and Rupert wait to leave until I get there. There are big developments and I need yer help. I’ll be right there.”

The men assembled in the office and Jamie explained what Isobel said on the phone before asking for ideas.

“Do ye think the poisoner is comin back to finish the job, Jamie?”

“I think this person still wants to hurt me, whether it be poison again or some other terrible thing. I don’t know why Isobel’s presence here will facilitate the guy, but she seems to think so.”

They continued thinking about what might happen and after fifteen minutes Isobel was calling.

“Isobel.”

“I never want to see your face again Jamie Fraser and if you get near me, I’ll call the police and tell them you tried to kill me! I must get my tack out of the barn, so I need a passcode. I’ll be in and out and you can watch from your ridiculous cameras if you want. But if you come near me, you’ll spend the night in jail. So give me your code.”

“8246 star.”

“Do I get to say goodbye to Porcelain Love?”

That’s a different code, its 7933 pound.”

Isobel clicked off without another word. Jamie was shaking with rage. Rupert and Angus were incredulous at what Jamie did, giving her his code. Michael figured it out and smiled.

“If I’m right gentlemen, she intends to give the code to the poisoner so he can finish the job. We know it’s happening tonight so if we take positions in different areas of the compound, we can catch the bloke in the act. As soon as you see him stop at a stall ye jump him. I have a feelin he’ll be headed straight for Runner so let him pass through if he is headed that way.”

“It’s a little daring Jamie. He could easily squirt poison into the water, and we might not even see that in the dark.”

“We should empty the water in each stall. They can handle it for a few hours. And Michael, ye will not be joining us tonight. You don’t need to risk yer neck for a job that doesn’t even pay ye.”

The men were all shaking their heads at the plan and figuring out where they could hide.

“We have another hour of daylight so ye guys get some dinner and a beer, only one beer please.”

Jamie took out a fifty and handed it to Rupert. “When ye come back, you need to hide yer truck Rupert. I’ll leave my truck in the driveway and you pull into the garage and shut the door. Since we don’t know when he’s comin, be silent after dark.” He tossed Rupert the remote to his garage.

The men disbanded to eat and get ready to catch the man that killed five of Jamie’s horses. Jamie argued with Michael on the way back to the house refusing his request to participate.

Jamie laid on his bed and called Claire to fill her in.

“I’m coming over Jamie.”

“No, yer not lass. I would be too worried and distracted with you here. We will get him tonight, I’m sure of it. Isobel has done a fine job of setting him up to be caught. I love ye Sassenach, don’t worry. I will call ye when we catch him.”

“Any time of night Jamie, I doubt I’ll sleep until I know you’re safe, and Runner too.”

“Lass, ye put me ahead of Runner, ye know what that means don’t ye? It means ye love me more than him.”

“I do love you more than anyone in the world. Please be careful.”

Jamie watched the monitors until he heard a light tapping on the front door.

“Claire, what are ye doing here?”

“I’m coming so I can prevent Runner from jumping his stall walls.” She put her hand up at Jamie. “You know the risk of him seeing someone at his stall in the dark. I will crouch down under his water bucket and keep him calm while you catch the guy. No one will see me.”

“Where is your truck?”

“It’s in the lower pasture, well hidden. I hiked up here.”

“In the pitch-black outside, no moon to light yer way? Yer in big trouble lass, let's go.”

As Jamie pulled the door closed, he felt it open again as Michael slipped out to join them.

“I’m coming too.”

Jamie looked at Claire and Michael, both dressed in black and shook his head.

“Silence as we walk.”

Michael hid in the breeding wing, Angus near the entrance door, Rupert on the long aisle. Claire was crouched under Runner’s empty water trough. Runner could not figure out why she was down there and pestered her to race him. She convinced him to lay down in his straw and showed him multiple images of him winning races. Before long he was snoring and the wait began. Jamie logged into the cameras and watched them closely. He had shut down the lights near the entrance so the man would be at ease coming inside. Most of the lights inside were off as well. With all the darkness, the night vision cameras would find him easily.

It was a grueling three hours later that Jamie saw a dark figure approach the keypad and then duck inside. Angus saw him right away and watched him closely. Rupert saw him move down the aisle and Jamie was right, he was heading right for Runner’s wing.

“Sassenach, he’s comin, stay down and quiet.”

Jamie pushed against the wall so he would be on the other side of the door when it opened. He heard the beeping keypad and tried to slow his heart. The door opened slowly, and the dark figure moved toward Runner’s stall door. When he opened the stall, Jamie slammed the door closed and turned on a light. The figure twisted and lunged at him. His arm was raised above his head, and there was a large syringe in his hand. The man slashed at Jamie with the syringe.

When Claire heard the stall open, she almost fainted. He was coming into the stall! She concentrated on images to Runner to keep him asleep. When the lights went on and the door slammed, she jumped up and watched Jamie in a struggle to save his own life.

Jamie reached up and grabbed the man’s forearm and kicked him viciously in the nuts and then pounded his face with his fist, three hits directly to his jaw and the man went down. Claire grabbed the syringe out of his hand and found a safe place to put it. She put her arms around Jamie who was panting from the fight.

“Sassenach, do you have that size syringe in yer truck?”

“Yes and the needle too.”

Rupert and Michael piled in the door and looked at the man. He had a ski mask on which Jamie pulled off to reveal Chad Remington.

“Rupert, go with Claire to her truck and hurry. Angus, turn the water main back on to refill the buckets.

Claire was back in short order with the syringe and needle. She filled the syringe with D5W, a harmless fluid, and looked at Jamie.

The man was tied to a chair and slapped awake. As Claire tied off his bicep and slapped the inside of his elbow to bring up a vein. She pulled the syringe out of her jacket pocket and pulled the safety cap off. Without saying a word, she bent forward and inserted the needle while Chad thrashed in his chair.

“Now then, ye worthless asshole, suppose you start at the beginning with poisoning the horses two years ago.”

Chad ordered Jamie to call the police, willing to face charges to get away from him.

Jamie brought his face close enough to Chad’s he could feel him breathe. Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and growled his question, “start at the beginning or I empty this syringe into yer arm.”

Chad was clearly terrified of the syringe and started sputtering about meeting Isobel at the Keeneland auction two years ago.

“We started sleeping together and I confessed how much I hate you for stealing the broodmare. She hated you and she hated Kentucky, but you wouldn’t sell the farm because your breeding program was making money. She wanted to cash out and get away, I wanted to cripple yer business. Killing your horses would satisfy both of us.”

Jamie couldn’t take another word and smashed Chad’s face with his fist, knocking him out. He left the wing and walked the aisle briskly, trying to calm down. Claire caught up to him and hugged his waist asking him to slow down. She could feel him shaking and spoke softly to him.

“It’s almost over sweetheart. One more person to identify and we can call the police to haul him away. We need to know who helped them poison the horses.”

Jamie exhaled and shook his head. They came back with smelling salts from the emergency medical kit and revived Chad.

“Sorry, I lost my temper for a minute and these blokes held me back from pushin that plunger in yer arm.” Jamie put his thumb on the plunger and told Chad to just give him a reason. “Who helped ye poison the horses. It wasn’t you, so who?”

Chad stared at Jamie but was silent until Jamie jumped forward and pushed the plunger a bit. Chad screamed as five cc’s were injected into his bloodstream.

“It was Yvonne! You hired her to manage the feeding, but she worked for me. She was in love with me and would have done anything I told her. She wasn’t happy staying on two weeks after you found out the horses were poisoned but she did it because I told her to.”

Jamie sneered at Chad and pushed the plunger all the way down. Chad was screaming as he watched the solution disappear into his body. Chad knew there was enough tranquilizer in the syringe to kill a twelve- hundred- pound horse and he would be dead in a matter of seconds. He was hyperventilating and screaming until he passed out.

Jamie pulled the syringe from his arm in disgust and then reached for his phone.

Sometime later Isobel pulled up to the driveway, thoroughly pissed off that Jamie left her boxes on the street. He had sent her a text an hour before telling her to come get them or the borders could have them. She had not reached Chad to come and help her, so she pushed and grunted to move the boxes toward her trunk.

“It looks like you could use a hand.”

Isobel squealed in her shock to hear someone on the road with her on this dark early morning.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” When she looked at where the voice came from a police officer came out of the dark and walked toward her while pulling out handcuffs.

“What the hell are you doin?”

Jamie came out the front door and looked closely at the vilest woman he had ever known.

“Yer goin to jail Isobel, along with yer lover Chad who told us the whole story. I’ll donate all this stuff because I’m told yer lookin at up to ten years. Nothing could make me happier.”

Isobel was screaming at Jamie to help her, but he walked into the house and closed the door.

Rupert and Angus were quick to leave, needing a little sleep before they came back for a full day of work. Michael begged off to his room thinking he would easily fall asleep tonight.

That left Jamie and Claire. He held out his hand and hugged her.

“Will ye stay with me tonight mo chridhe?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

They stood under a hot shower not willing to let each other go and soap up. She kissed her hero and felt her heart in her throat at the way he looked at her. He bundled her up in fluffy towels and held her close in bed. Neither wanted to make love after such a day. So they slept in their embrace and felt protected from the world by the other.

Jamie felt Claire’s movement several hours later. He watched her dress and asked her to stay with him.

She kissed him deeply and touched his cheek.

“See ya soon.” She left quietly to find her truck and her way home to change.

Two officers came to the compound the next day and took testimony from each of them. There would be more required of them in the near future, but this was enough to charge Isobel and Chad. Later that day, the officers were able to find Yvonne at Chad’s facility. She was arrested, charged, and sent to jail to await trial.

Claire worked on stats of the horses she would race that day. She was in her silks after weighing in and felt very determined after their disqualification in New York. There were ten horses in the stakes race, Sham was among them. Claire smiled and said a silent thank you knowing Runner would do anything to beat Sham.

Claire turned and smiled at Jamie as she was ponied to the gate. Runner was coming out of the fifth position, right in the middle of ten horses. Claire suggested he hang back for a few seconds to avoid the chaos. When the gate slammed open Claire was in her jockey position and finally asked Runner if he intended to run the race. Almost like an afterthought he jumped onto the track and loped like a rodeo horse falling even further behind. Claire told Runner that Sham was in first place so he better hurry and that was her last thought before he bounded into the turn and took off.

Claire was worried he had dallied too long. It looked impossible to run past the clump of horses and overtake Sham. “We’re going right up the middle big guy,” she yelled, and directed him to shoot straight up the middle of the pack. It was something the crowd would not soon forget. The dark horse coming out of dead last to run up the middle of an eight-horse clump at a staggering speed and overtake the leader, Sham.

Runner told Claire to tuck in from the start and when she peeked around her, she saw no horses. She looked ahead, no horses.

“Jesus Christ Runner, you are all alone. Hurry!” Claire looked ahead at the finish line and the camera blinded her again. “You won the race! Holy crap, there had to be five or six lengths between you and Sham!”

Claire pulled him back and waited for the ha-haha-ha-ha as he passed Sham, still at a full gallop. Claire came around the turn and saw Jamie and Michael smiling like the blinding sun. She stood in her stirrups and pointed her crop at them before pulling Runner back in earnest.

Three weeks later they were racing at Keeneland Park for the Breeder’s Futurity Stakes. Claire could see Jamie was right about better horses as they continued down the road to the Kentucky Derby. They were still running the prep races and Claire shivered to think what the super six would be like.

They were ponied to the third position in the gate and Claire was tense and ready when the gates slammed open. Runner let the others go first but quickly jumped onto the track. Claire could feel how tense he was and coming into the turn he took the wrong lead, slowing him considerably. Claire asked him for the left lead, and he changed it quickly. She didn’t know how to help him but as he came out of the turn his body stretched forward and she could feel his leaping gallop. She tucked close to him looking for trouble ahead every few seconds.

The crowd went wild watching the big black horse turn on his power and run ahead of the others at a blinding speed. Runner took the lead with the closest horse right on his butt as he ran across the finish line. Claire pulled him back while going a little crazy he had done it again. There was no showing off for the horses he beat. Runner obediently slowed down and a track pony was able to stop him quickly. Claire’s heartfelt sad for Runner because he didn’t have fun like he usually does. After the winner’s circle picture, she jumped off and held his face. He told her he was tired and he missed Jason. Claire took a double-take at this asking why he missed Jason, but Runner was being led away by Michael.

Claire jumped into Jamie’s arms kissing him while smiling hard. The number of spectators that gathered to congratulate Claire after the race was growing. She smiled and thanked them as Jamie led her into the stall area where Michael was washing the colt. She held his face and saw pictures of Jason rubbing him with a towel and throwing a blanket over him when he was wet. Claire wondered how they would find a groom like that. Michael was clearly not doing it right.

One man waited outside for Runner to emerge and be loaded into the trailer. The horse was accompanied by the owner, trainer, and jockey, and the man was thrilled. He identified himself as a writer for Sports Illustrated and fired a dozen questions off which were answered by one of the three. The man’s name was William Nock and he had Runner in his sights. The reporter returned to New York that night and blazed through his first article about the incredible stallion, Midnight Runner. He would be trackside for his next race in Florida, at Gulfstream Park.

Claire talked to Jamie when they were alone in the truck. She told him Runner was not happy about today’s race and he wanted Jason back.

“Who?”

“The groom you hired in New York. Runner showed me pictures of everything Jason did for him and he wants that touch again. It’s cold outside and Michael walks him without a blanket after the race and doesn’t rub his muscles, so they cramp up. I love Michael but we need a better groom.”

“I’ll look into it Sassenach. He won one-hundred thirty thousand today, so he gets the best groom. He kissed her and smiled.”

Over the next week, Jamie looked for an outstanding groom, talked to five or six that were still available but could not find anyone who did the treatments Jason did. He made a bold phone call to the track in New York and left a message for Jason to call. Later in the day, Jason returned the call and Jamie made him an offer.

“Come to Kentucky to be our groom for the rest of the races. It’s all travel until the winter break so you’ll be living in hotels, but we will feed ye well and pay all your expenses plus five-hundred a week cash.”

“No kidding?” Jason’s excitement came through the phone. “I love Runner and can’t wait to get out of New York! Heeeell ya!”

Jamie laughed at Jason’s exuberance and felt something release inside of him. He was still getting used to his new freedom. The happiness, the chance to love Claire and let the world know she was his. Why not give Runner the support he wanted to make him happy too?

The oppression of living with a hateful woman was slowly seeping out of him being replaced with happiness and hope. Jamie lived with secret doubts about Runner’s chance to get to the super-six races. He wanted to believe in him that much, he tried to believe, but in the end, he just didn’t. His gut told him great things didn’t happen to him because he was undeserving, not good enough, a pretender. Those were Isobel’s words that had been hurled at him for four long years. She was gone now and he was healing, feeling like himself again. Jamie was content to know however many races Runner had left, he would arrive to the race and exit the race a happy horse with his favorite groom.

[thetriggeredhappy]

Yo once again I LOVE your work and your writing style is stupendous my dude. If you're still taking requests, I was wondering if you could write a drabble about one of the more emotionally strong members of the team (medic, engie, spy, etc.) having an absolute b r e a k d o w n and how the others deal with it. Once again, you're a national treasure and I hope you're safe in these trying times!!

i think “national treasure” is one of my favorite compliment phrases just because i literally can’t think of it without also thinking of nic cage. maybe he’ll come by to steal me away from the fucking horrific sleep schedule that resulted in me writing i think actually none of this before 3 AM

(this is like 7k words, warnings for mention of medic doing medic things, mention of violence, possible trigger warnings for drug use, drug misuse, and overdose, and mention of problems with eating and sleeping)

-

It was a quiet, slow, creeping thing, right up until the moment that it wasn’t. Something that might have eventually been noticed in a way besides in hindsight, but it wasn’t, not until it was almost grotesquely unavoidably obvious. Some might describe it as tragic, but Heavy would mostly just describe it as a personal failing that he didn’t notice and intervene sooner.

He should’ve noticed that the dark circles under Medic’s eyes were getting darker, from simple marks of age to a signifier that perhaps he’d been too invested in his work to go to sleep on time for a night or two and then at some point to so dark they might have been mistaken for bruises.

He should’ve noticed that Medic’s posture had shifted from crisp and ramrod-straight to looser and lower, his movements changing from confident if erratic to downright jerky and unnatural. Rather than cheering and shouting his excitement with the rest of the team to join the fray and jump into battle, he had started simply telling them to hurry up, barking out his usual warnings with less humor and lightheartedness or even comical levels of borderline maternal concern, instead frantic at best and angry at worst.

He should’ve noticed that Medic was spending less time crooning and having one-sided humorous dialogues with his birds when Heavy was in the room, spending less time paying attention to the birds in general, silent and almost too-still, face locked in a tight lack of expression.

To be fair, he did notice before the major fallout itself occurred, albiet so very shortly before. He noticed the fact that Medic showed up to battle with his trademark crisp white coat in a much more ruffled and rumbled condition, his hair slightly out of order and his glasses slightly dirty and smudged. And then he noticed and realized all those other things one after another, with mounting concern, but then battle was starting and he had no time to address it.

After battle he’d forgotten for a while, preoccupied by other thoughts of other things, and only remembered it later that night, at which point he considered his options for a long while before eventually deciding to follow his gut and go check on Medic.

The hallway before the infirmary was entirely silent and very dim, late evening settling into view across the base, the general chaos the team tended to create starting to subside in the wake of sunset. 

Usually, Medic could be assumed to be up to any number of things, but most often a specific few. Working on getting black market animal organs, or doing basic caretaking for his multitude of doves, or working with some cadaver or other probably bloody experiment. Every once and a while he was locked away in the room offshooting from the infirmary that was likely meant to be used as a ward, brewing up more of the healing vapor he used in his Medigun (the recipe and process of which was a very closely guarded secret).

But oddly enough, this time he had out chemistry equipment.

Heavy hesitated at the door. Usually Medic would acknowledge him—or anyone else entering his space—the moment they showed up, always very aware of any given space that he was in. But he remained hunched over whatever he was working on.

Heavy stood there for a few moments, observing a series of other things that weren’t quite right since suddenly his attention was on it. For one thing, his birds weren’t crowded up around him and his work, and were instead all up among the rafters, practically out of sight and very quiet. For another, Medic hadn’t even taken off his coat and gloves, something usually standard for him once he was in his lab space. And often Medic had music playing and spoke quickly and quietly to himself or his patient or his birds as he worked, but instead now he was silent.

Heavy moved forward carefully, slowly, navigating his way towards Medic as well as he could. Glanced over what Medic was working on—something with test tubes, something being portioned out, maybe. In the harsh light of the overhead, his dark circles seemed so much more pronounced.

Medic finally seemed to take notice of him in his periphery and jolted bodily, flinching back with a sharp yelp of panic. He practically tripped over himself as he reared away, and Heavy flinched too in shock and surprise as Medic’s flailing ended up knocking beakers and test tubes and measuring implements alike to the ground to shatter, and in only a few seconds the area had gone to one of calm and silence and light disarray to glass shards and spilled chemicals and Medic holding his bonesaw up before himself defensively, back pressed to the counter, eyes wide and chest heaving, looking entirely like a caged animal.

It took Medic a few seconds too long to visibly shake off his panic and fear, blinking a few times to orient himself again, glancing around their immediate area with clear embarrassment. “Ah, Heavy,” he managed, voice wobbling a little, unable to meet Heavy’s eyes. “I... did not hear you enter. You startled me.”

“Heavy noticed,” he said slowly, still surprised but trying very hard not to sound too terribly judging about it.

Medic put his bonesaw back down with a shaking hand, straightening up, belatedly noticing the mess he’d made in his moment of panic, across the floor and across himself. “Did you... need something?” he asked, visibly disoriented and rattled but clearly trying to seem more composed.

“Just... to check on you,” Heavy said, tone even and calm.

“I don’t need checking up on, Heavy,” Medic said, speaking just a touch too quickly and still not entirely meeting his eyes.

“Is just that Doktor has been acting strange and Heavy worries,” he elaborated carefully, gesturing at himself loosely. “About team and about friends especially.”

“It is appreciated but entirely unnecessary thank you,” Medic said firmly, and still, still wouldn’t look at Heavy, eyes locked on the broken glass between them, and Heavy was having a little trouble reading his expression. It was something strange and new, something he hadn’t seen Medic wearing before, but finally he managed to place what emotion he was displaying, and it caught him by surprise.

Something like guilt.

Heavy looked over the remainder of the setup that Medic had been working with, this time more critically. “What is this?” he asked simply, gesturing at the surviving parts of whatever the experiment or project was and the glass on the floor.

Medic flinched a little at the question. “A personal project. Of no concern to you,” he said, voice clipped.

“Maybe a little concern to me,” Heavy tried, an attempt at a joke. “As your friend.”

“Of no concern to you,” Medic repeated, voice migrating from clipped directly over into blatantly cold.

Heavy blinked at it, a stab of hurt worming into his chest and making his expression fall. His jaw went tight. “Fine,” he said, letting his anger take hold for a moment and turning away decisively. “Then Heavy will see Doktor tomorrow.”

He heard Medic sigh harshly before the door fell closed behind him.

He would end up wishing, later on, that he’d kept a level head. Pressed harder, asked more questions. Because he should’ve been more worried than angry, surely, at Medic startling so badly. He should’ve been more worried at Medic dodging questions when usually he was so enthusiastic about rambling about his projects. He should’ve been more worried at the doves not choosing to be all over whatever Medic was doing, or even nearby him.

The next morning, Medic wasn’t at breakfast, which wasn’t strange—he almost never was. Didn’t turn up with the larger part of the team before the match of the day, which was also fair, he tended to do most of his getting ready in the privacy of his own space.

Twenty minutes until the match was meant to start, and Medic wasn’t there, which was strange. He always showed up at least twenty minutes early to set up his weapons and make sure they were in order, to calibrate the Medigun. But maybe he was just running a little late—not usually this late, admittedly, but it was possible, even if it was a first.

But Heavy couldn’t shake a feeling of unease, regardless.

Fifteen minutes until the match was meant to start, and Heavy was elbowed in the upper arm, and startled back out of his thoughts to look for the source.

Scout was giving him a look of mild confusion. “Yo, what’s your deal?” he asked, tone lighthearted. “You’re actin’ like a total space cadet, big guy. What’s up?”

Heavy gave him a look of confusion at the colloquialism, not entirely familiar with it. Scout rolled his eyes.

“Means you’re not paying attention to nothin’. Spacing out. Lookin’ off and gettin’ all up in your own head about stuff,” he elaborated, even if he sighed a bit dramatically at needing to explain.

“Ah,” Heavy nodded, understanding and feeling a little bashful. “Just... thinking.”

Scout was still squinting at him a little bit, as if suspicious. He glanced back towards the room at large as there was a sudden noise, distracted for a moment, before he blinked, standing up straight. “Oh, what, is it ‘cause the Doc ain’t here yet?” he asked outright as it occurred to him.

Heavy nodded after a moment.

Scout rocked on his heels a few times, nodding to himself. “Yeah, hey, that ain’t like him,” Scout seemed to decide. “What’s got him late?”

Heavy frowned at him.

“I mean, you’d be the one to know,” Scout shrugged. “Figured I’d ask.”

“I do not know,” Heavy said, and maybe some bitterness crept into his tone, because Scout’s eyebrows shot up and he promptly removed himself from the conversation.

At the ten minute mark, Heavy could hear the other mercenaries starting to notice too, talking amongst themselves quietly but casually. He didn’t bother overtly listening in or moving to join the conversation, just continuing to look off into middle distance as he listened to them talking.

“Think he’s gone and slept in?” Demo mused.

“That would be a first,” Spy snorted.

“Weren’t at breakfast, then?” Sniper asked quietly. “Nobody seen him today?”

A chorus of “no”s from the team at large.

“And, uh, the big guy hasn’t either,” Scout added helpfully. “Hey, maybe someone should go check on him.”

“He’s cutting it awful close,” the Engineer hesitantly agreed. “If he has slept in, he’d need to wake up right about now if he’s gonna make it at all, let alone all prim and proper. Who’s gonna go check up on him? We could send the big guy.”

Some kind of noise and motion from Scout.

“...Alright, well, any volunteers?”

“I’ll go,” Spy finally said with a sigh. “Keep radios on, I’ll call in. Do not press the button.”

Heavy went cold, suddenly remembering the button in question.

They were hired mercenaries, and the large majority of them were... somewhat unstable. There were a few measures in place to make sure that nobody was doing anything... ill-advised. Their being stationed so far from civilization, and their work lives being scheduled to take up so much of their time, and a series of buttons around the base in case of a few emergency situations.

Obviously there were some for fires, earthquakes, or other disasters. Explosions, power outages, and other things of that nature. Then there were buttons for break-ins, stolen briefcases, sieges, assassination attempts.

Then there were a few for a couple of very specific instances. For a member of the team betraying the rest of them. For a member of the team being fired or quitting. And lastly, there was a button that was shared for two purposes—for any given member of the team not showing up to battle by the five-minute mark before prep time was set to begin, and for any given member of the team going officially AWOL. If they didn’t show up for work on time, they were to be presumed missing, and therefore presumed to be making a break for it.

There was exactly one other situation where something like this had happened—a brief power outage on the base had resulted in several people’s clocks getting reset, and the few who had purely mechanical clocks had needed to wake up the rest of the team, and they’d forgotten to wake up Scout. They met him halfway, finding him already booking it to try and get there on time, and had needed to collectively “forget” to call in that he wasn’t there on time, letting him show up a few minutes late (and promptly wheedling assorted favors out of him to continue to “forget”).

Spy left, and the rest of the team returned to regular everyday conversation, some kind of bickering between Demo and Soldier and Engineer, goaded on by Scout and Pyro. Heavy checked the clock every ten seconds or so.

At the six minute mark, an alarm started blaring.

Jolting and jumping and cries of surprise from the rest of the team, sudden very loud noises being one thing that professional killers tended to be bad at handling. Then looks of shock and surprise between all of them. Heavy felt sick.

“You don’t think...?” Demo trailed, and then they were all looking for the readout to figure out which alarm this one was, entirely unfamiliar with it. Heavy felt his blood go cold as he caught a glimpse of it.

“ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT—MEDIC”

In the mad dash to get to the infirmary to investigate, Heavy was among the last to make it, much slower than the rest of the team. When he got there, he found the team arguing with Spy, who was blocking the door and didn’t seem particularly keen on moving any time in the near future.

Until he looked up and saw Heavy, that is. Then he jerked his head, gesturing for Heavy to go inside, continuing to argue with the team, who all seemed to be in varying degrees of worried and alarmed.

Spy shut and barred the door behind them and gestured for Heavy to follow.

The setup from the night before was still there, test tubes and beakers, with the mess already apparently long since cleaned up. There was also a small tray of assorted basic medical equipment that Heavy could never remember the names for. But he noticed that Spy looked shaken just a few moments before he rounded the table and saw—

He was on his knees and speaking frantically before he even processed what he was looking at. Medic, on the ground, lying on his side, limp and lifeless. Heavy shook him by the shoulders, absolute unadulterated panic rising up into his chest and spilling out through his mouth in the form of frantic speaking, borderline shouting.

He demanded answers from Spy several times before he looked up and saw the confusion on Spy’s face and realized he wasn’t speaking English. He forced himself to slow down.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Spy replied, clearly troubled. “He has a pulse still, and his breathing is fine, but he won’t wake up.”

Heavy looked down at Medic, alarmed beyond reason, and shook him again, shouted his title again. No response.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but despite my setting off that particular alarm, I don’t think that this was foul play, mon ami,” Spy said grimly, putting a hand on Heavy’s shoulder.

Heavy shot him a confused look, and Spy moved to carefully pick up something from the table—a syringe.

“I found this next to him,” he said, tilting it in his hand. “I am not presently sure what was in it. But if I had to guess... I think he might’ve injected himself with it.”

Heavy felt horror gnawing at him, biting a gaping hole into his gut. Because that wasn’t like Medic. He didn’t often test things on himself. His Medigun and other such implements, yes. But for other things, he always went to the rest of the team. And Heavy didn’t even know what any of this stuff on the table was.

And then he realized the worst part of all of this. Whenever there was an emergency like this, on or off the field, during work or during leisure time, in any situation at all, Medic was the one who tended to solve it. Sometimes with the help of the Engineer, or Demoman, or Heavy, depending on what the situation called for, but he was always the one there to fix it, to think things through and find a solution—often unorthodox, but always effective.

And now that Medic was the one hurt, who would be the one to help them?

-

Miss Pauling showed up within the hour, and was apparently given the run-down on what had happened. It was agreed between Spy and Heavy that their story would be that the syringe had been found several feet away from Medic on the floor and that Spy “very much suspected foul play”, just in case Medic had indeed made some kind of misstep himself that he could get in trouble for. Miss Pauling then apparently promised to investigate and get back to them on it. She apparently offered to find some other medical professional to help them, but admitted that it would probably take at least a day to get someone to the base, and Spy had turned down the offer.

Over the course of the first three hours, the rest of the team had all dispersed and gone to do other things. Medic had been moved to one of the cots he kept stored away in a half-hearted “ward”, and the Engineer and Demo combined had managed to fiddle and figure their way through finding and using some of the more basic medical equipment, and had hooked Medic up to a heartbeat monitor after the fifth time in twenty minutes that someone became convinced that he was dead, unable to feel his pulse or see his breathing.

Soldier had made a point, once the chaos had died down a little. Had pointed out that really, they could send Medic through Respawn and that would potentially solve this problem. But the Engineer hadn’t looked so sure, and so Heavy had immediately and firmly protested the idea until it was dropped again.

No further conversations needed to take place to determine that Heavy would be the one to stick around and wait for Medic to wake up.

Heavy ended up grabbing one of his books from the bookshelf that he’d previously left in the lab, still sitting there at the bedside but at least having something to occupy his mind while he waited so he wouldn’t go entirely crazy. For the most part he tended to get lost in his reading, and time often slipped by in the blink of an eye, but this time he found himself looking up every few minutes or so regardless, eyes darting up for a moment either to the heartbeat monitor or to Medic himself.

It was unsettling. He was glad they’d set up the monitor, because otherwise Heavy would surely be checking his breathing every few minutes. He was pale, almost sickly-looking, and his dark circles beyond pronounced. He looked like a corpse, almost. The sight of him like that shook Heavy deeply, more deeply than he could or would ever admit.

Around midday, Demo dropped by to check up on them, and to readjust the heartbeat monitor. At some point, the Engineer stopped by to bring Heavy something to eat, and to check for any updates. There were none. Medic hadn’t moved.

Heavy needed to get up to turn on a light when the sun finally set, and to pick up a different book. To pace for a little while. He fed the birds, made sure they had fresh water. But then he sat back down, forced himself to take a few deep breaths, to stay calm. Medic’s heartbeat was steady, as was his breathing. He wasn’t getting any worse. He just needed to be patient.

Heavy glanced up at the heartbeat monitor an hour later, squinting suspiciously, watching as it started picking up speed a bit. The number on the screen slowly started ticking up, and Heavy felt his concern rising alongside it. He hesitated for a while before closing his book and setting it aside, unsure of exactly what to do. After a moment he went with his gut instinct, leaning forward and gently shaking Medic on the shoulder.

“Doktor?” he asked, working hard to keep his voice level. He swallowed hard when he heard the monitor pick up even further. “Medic?” he tried again, shaking a bit harder, volume rising slightly.

Almost all at once, a shift, a movement, a change in Medic’s expression. Then Medic seemed to be fighting hard to open his eyes, to move, to sit up.

“Was? Was is los?” he managed, words slurring together and tumbling awkwardly as he blinked a few times, visibly disoriented. He seemed to be trying to shift his arms, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Medic?” Heavy asked again, shocked beyond words to see Medic moving.

A quiet scoff from Medic. “Ja, ja, what? What is going on?” he asked, sounding oddly exasperated, still trying to move. “What do you want?”

Heavy forced himself to blink, to respond. “You’re awake,” he observed, not quite able to string words together just yet.

“I’m awake,” Medic agreed, even as he swayed, blinked hard, “what did you need? What is wrong?”

“Wrong?” Heavy asked, confused even further.

“Yes, it’s all you people say, “Medic, Medic”, over and over, it’s infuriating,” the doctor rambled, words tumbling a bit again, and he managed to get a hand to Heavy’s arm, pushing on it and heaving himself up just a bit. “What is it? What did you need help with?”

“No, no, no help,” Heavy assured quickly, and moved to push on Medic’s shoulders. “Doktor should lay back down and rest. He is not well.”

“I’m fine,” Medic said flippantly, even as he fell like a sack of potatoes at the lightest push, and couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be fine. I’m just tired.”

“Rest more,” Heavy insisted, worry creeping back into view. “Doktor... does not remember?”

“What do...?” Medic started, and trailed for a few moments, drifting, before shaking himself what small amount he was able. “What? What do you mean?”

Heavy went to explain, but then he observed the crease in Medic’s brow, the cold sweat beading his face, the paleness of him, and he backtracked. “Nevermind. Later. Is Doktor comfortable?”

Medic seemed to think it over. “Yes. Cold, I suppose,” he amended. He squinted up at Heavy for a moment. “I’m... in a bed?”

“Yes. But it is night time. Go to sleep,” Heavy urged, even if he didn’t want to, even if he wanted Medic to jump to his feet and get right back to normal. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy, and that Medic needed rest, now.

Medic nodded distractedly, then shook his head. “No, no, I have work to do,” he protested weakly.

“First,” Heavy tried, scrambling to think of something. “Er... count backward from twenty.”

Medic huffed, and seemed to try to roll his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, and only got to thirteen before he was out like a light.

Heavy snapped his fingers once or twice to see if Medic would react, and he didn’t, at which point he stood and went to find a teammate.

He found Spy, luckily, and quickly relayed what information he could. Medic had woken up briefly, and was too disoriented to answer any questions before he passed back out again. Spy nodded, looking a little relieved, and promised to update the rest of the team in case Heavy wanted to go and keep watch some more. Heavy thanked him.

Hours later, Medic stirred again, this time sitting up fully and starting to feebly fight his way free of his blankets for a few moments before he even managed to start speaking, but Heavy urged him to stay still, gently asked again if he remembered anything and got a non-answer in response, incoherent murmuring. He managed to get at least a full sentence out of him, Medic complaining that he was hungry. Heavy assured him that he would go get something to eat, and that it was very important that he stay put, and all but ran to the kitchen to dig up something and to return with it. He made the fastest sandwich of his entire life, and was back within ten minutes, but Medic was out again by the time he got back regardless.

Sometime around two in the morning, Heavy jolted awake from a doze at the sound of movement. Medic had sat up fully, and his eyebrows were drawn together, and his hair was sticking up oddly. It was more of a mess than Heavy had maybe ever seen him in outside of battle, and in battle it was usually an issue of blood and burns and mud and wounds, not bedhead and general dishevelment.

Medic squinted hard at him when he moved. “Heavy?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Heavy said quickly, sitting up straight.

“...Where are my glasses?” he asked. His voice was rough, but much less weak than before.

Heavy was quick to find them and pass them over, and Medic put them on, only fumbling a little bit in the process. “Doktor is hungry?” Heavy asked hesitantly, leaning and reaching for where he’d set the sandwich nearby. Medic nodded, and took it with only mild confusion, eating without protest. Heavy noted the way he seemed to wince, and quickly deduced that he was probably thirsty, and got up to fetch a cup of water. Medic took that as well, draining it in one go and then wolfing down the remainder of the sandwich with no further delay.

He set the plate aside, frowning, glancing around the infirmary. Heavy could see the cogs turning in his head. “...What time is it?” Medic asked.

Heavy leaned to try and get a glance at a clock. “Almost three,” he finally said.

Medic frowned harder. “...And what day is it?”

Heavy sighed, running his hand over his own head, slumping a little. “You were asleep for a full day,” he said, understanding what Medic really meant by that question.

A vague kind of alarm from Medic.

“What happened?” Heavy asked, cutting right to the point. After nearly a full day of panic, he thought he was entitled to be a little blunt.

Medic examined the situation for a few more moments, thought for a few more moments, before he sighed, apparently giving in. “Apparently, a failed experiment,” he said bitterly.

Heavy frowned.

Medic shifted, took stock of his surroundings briefly. Pushed his glasses up. “...You do not seem terribly panicked,” he observed.

“Doktor has already woken up twice,” Heavy said carefully.

Medic cringed. “Ugh. Did I say anything?”

“No, mostly... too disoriented to speak,” Heavy said. “What happened?”

“Well. What I was attempting to do, and presumably did a very bad job of, was make a sort of... anesthesia. Something that would be extremely effective at knocking someone entirely unconscious into a very deep sleep, which they could then wake up from eight or so hours later, perhaps more or less time depending on dosage.”

Heavy nodded, following along as best he could and trying to piece together the rest. “...And Doktor tested this on himself?” he asked.

“Ja, to make the long story short.”

“Why? Why did you make this?” Heavy asked, still confused, because Medic had said multiple times before that he thought anasthesia for surgeries was unnecessary when he had the Medigun.

Medic’s jaw tightened. “Not important,” he said.

Heavy sighed hard, dragging a hand down over his face. “Doktor, you have a badly scared team,” he said, sharp and short. “All very frightened by this. We deserve real explanations.”

Medic looked at him for a long few moments, the cogs in his head whirring too fast for most to keep up with, but Heavy was fairly sure he could follow along once he understood a few more things.

First, that Medic was looking a little bit better, once he woke up. Better than normal. Less ragged, even though he clearly would be needing a shave at some point.

Second, that Medic had seemed genuinely surprised for a second to hear that the team had been worried about him.

Third, that the expression on his face could be described as guilt, which Heavy had only seen him wear exactly once before, twenty-four hours prior.

Medic broke eye contact, glared off out into the infirmary. The doves were rattling a tray of surgical equipment across the room.

“I was attempting to make a sleeping aid,” Medic finally admitted.

A few moments to make a series of connections before Heavy spoke. “...For yourself?” he asked, just for clarification’s sake.

“Ja. For myself.”

“Doktor is having trouble sleeping?” he asked, more gently now.

“Stop that,” Medic said, tone absolutely biting, and Heavy recoiled a little bit. Medic promptly exhaled, eyes falling closed, that guilt back full force. “I... I meant... just, don’t use that tone. I do not need to be babied, I am a fully grown man. Yes, I have been... having trouble sleeping. And it began to interfere with my work.”

“What is problem?” Heavy asked, careful to keep his tone even.

“I am unable to stay asleep for any period of time. Falling asleep is fairly easy, but once I’m out I am woken almost immediately.”

His tone was beyond the clear-cut clinical kind that he wore when explaining most things, it was outright cold, derogatory even, and Heavy felt indignant for a moment before realizing the tone wasn’t directed at him. Medic was glaring down at his own hands.

“I understand all of the symptoms I am experiencing, and why they are there, and what is causing them, but still I...” Medic visibly forced himself to take a breath as his voice started rising. When he spoke again, it was even and level. “I understand now what I did wrong, and rest assured, it will not happen again.”

“How bad were sleeping troubles to make this happen?” Heavy asked, still incredulous.

Medic’s shoulders sank. He continued looking everywhere but at Heavy. “I have not gotten more than a total of seven hours of sleep per week for the last month,” he said quietly.

Heavy’s blood ran cold.

Medic sighed, pushing his glasses up to knead at the bridge of his nose viciously. “And this has happened before, is not terribly unusual, but also I’ve been feeling extremely nauseous at all hours of the day and so I haven’t been eating more than one or two meals at most, and being hungry makes my mood flare unexpectedly, and so I dive into work to sort through it, and then I’ve missed out on more meals and more sleep and I’m—“

Medic cut himself off cold. Glared off at nothing, into the darkness of the infirmary, with more blatant and fiery disgust and anger than Heavy had ever seen him in, even in the worst of his temper in the height of battle. It was a little frightening.

But that fear was overshadowed by concern, because his eyes were shining, tears more visible against the contrast of the bags under Medic’s eyes.

“I’m just... tired, Heavy,” Medic admitted, like a Herculean effort, worse than pulling teeth, worse than open heart surgery, and it made sense that it was so cleary difficult for Medic to say, because Heavy realized all at once that it was the first time Medic had ever said something like that.

Medic never complained. Chided, of course, and lectured, and occasionally berated, but never complained. Not of hunger, or fatigue, or heat, or cold, or anything at all. Not when he was bleeding profusely from bullet wounds or shrapnel, not when the team ate all of the food at dinner without leaving any for him because he hardly ever showed up anyways, not when it was clear he’d been woken up twice and three times during the night to deal with injuries from various shenanigans.

He was always there to fix their problems, to check in on the team, to notice one too many yawns, or unnatural flushes as symptoms to fevers or overheating in the desert sun, or stumbling, or having apparently forgotten to eat breakfast. He kept everyone in shape, kept the whole team on top of taking care of themselves as best they could, and made up the extra distance for them when they slipped. Gave them modified hearts and healed their wounds and chided them to make sure to eat dinner and get their sleep and wash their hands and to smoke and drink just slightly less.

And Heavy realized, all at once, that they never gave him that courtesy in return.

He, Heavy, was there to listen to Medic, to hear him talking about things, to be there for him in many ways emotionally, but when was the last time he’d asked about Medic’s well-being outside of a cursory greeting?

He pieced together all at once Medic not showing up for breakfast or dinner, and missing lunch during battle to hunt down teammates who’d been downed and needed help. Medic always staying up so late working and getting up so early to get ready for work on time.

He was fairly certain that Medic would literally give an arm and a leg to any teammate who so much as asked. And none of them ever so much as given him the courtesy or wondering if he was alright. Because they assumed that Medic was somehow managing to take care of himself, on top of his taking care of all eight of them.

Heavy leaned in and pulled Medic into a hug.

Medic stiffened, clearly confused, unsure of what to do. “...Heavy?”

“I am sorry, Doktor,” Heavy rumbled, throat feeling a little tight. “I am sorry that this happened. We... help to figure something out,” he promised. “We are a team, we will look out for each other. And Doktor looks after all of us the most, and so we should look after Doktor the most. Credit to team. We will help. I will help.”

“...Thank you, Heavy,” Medic said slowly, a weight to it, and managed an awkward sort of pat, as if trying to comfort him, still, even then, waking up in a hospital bed of sorts with no memory of the previous day.

He finally pulled back, glancing Medic up and down. “Is there anything Doktor needs?” he asked.

Medic shook his head, adjusted his glasses again. “I can handle myself now, I think,” he said with an air of finality, starting to free himself from the blankets he’d been lumped under.

Heavy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a hard look. Medic faltered. Deflated.

“...Water would be appreciated,” he mumbled, and Heavy nodded, standing to go get him a cup.

-

Heavy was the one to update Miss Pauling the next day, to tell her that Medic had woken up at some point but would be needing an additional day to recover. She hadn’t asked any further questions, just nodding and handing him a thin file to give to Spy when he had the chance.

He did so an hour later at breakfast.

He first handed the folder off to Spy, who thanked him, then went to go get himself a plate of food. Medic had dozed off again at some point, and it would probably be a good idea to eat while he had the chance. As much as Medic kept insisting that he could do things on his own, when he’d briefly gone to get a change of clothes he’d wobbled severely and gone very pale the moment he stood up and tried to walk, so Heavy was fairly certain he’d be spending another day in the infirmary helping him with things while he recovered a bit more. And to be honest, the chairs in the infirmary were extremely uncomfortable, so he’d appreciate sitting somewhere else for a while.

Once he sat down, he was bombarded with questions by the rest of the team.

“Has he woken up yet?” Scout asked, curious.

“Do you know what happened?” Demo asked, concerned.

“Anythin’ we can do to help?” Engie asked, earnest.

Heavy hesitated in a couple of ways, partially because he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, partially because he wasn’t entirely sure with what all Medic would want him to say. He confirmed that Medic had woken up a few times, for a few minutes the first times then for a few hours the next. He made brief eye contact with Spy before explaining that they were going to continue telling Miss Pauling they didn’t know what happened, and that Medic knew that as well, but that in reality he’d made a mistake with an experiment and he’d need another day or so to recover.

On the last question, he hesitated for quite some time before answering.

“If any help is needed, I will ask,” Heavy said slowly. “But... maybe we need to be better to Doktor.”

Sounds of confusion and question from the table at large.

“Medic always works very hard,” Heavy elaborated carefully. “Takes care of team, keeps us safe and healthy. Makes sure we are all okay. Maybe... we could be better at watching out for Doktor too.”

A few nods and sounds of agreement. “Not sure he’d take too well to us nagging him, though,” Engie said.

“Maybe no nagging. But... letting him know we can notice he is not well, and that we want him to be well,” Heavy elaborated. “Heavy can do nagging.”

“So, what’s the story we’re tellin’ Miss P? Still the, uh, the old ‘whoops, someone tried to kill him, ain’t that a shame’ thing?” Scout asked.

“Yes.”

“If you would like, we can take turns in bringing food to the infirmary,” Spy offered. “If you do not particularly feel like being there the entire day.”

“Will be there to keep Doktor company anyways, but maybe it will help to have team stopping by,” Heavy agreed.

They started sorting out a schedule for that, of who would be dropping by when, inventing some excuses for people to come by the infirmary and kick around for a while to keep things interesting. A few minutes in, Pyro dropped by to join planning, and Sniper showed up half an hour later and was talked at for about twenty minutes before he managed to extract himself long enough to at least grab his coffee.

And over the course of the rest of the day, Medic’s continuous complaints about being bedridden eventually started to fade away under the weight of the team’s shenanigans. The Engineer dropped by and they talked over some more Medigun and Dispenser redesigns for quite a while, and Spy brought by a newspaper at some point and they had a lengthy discussion in German about assorted European politics and recent news. Different pairs of teammates dropped by a few times over the course of the day with assorted food and drink, Demo and Scout doing so after apparently using their time off to drive all the way to civilization to get some bad diner food, and bringing back leftovers for Heavy and Medic.

Shortly after Soldier and Pyro stepped out, having dropped off an earnest and surprisingly successful attempt at them baking apple pie for the two of them to get a taste of, Medic looked over at Heavy, a little suspicious. “So what exactly did you tell them?” he asked outright.

Heavy blinked, felt himself flushing a little. “...What do you mean?” he asked anyways.

Medic rolled his eyes. “Clearly you told them something. The entire team didn’t simply unanimously decide to come by to try and do whatever all of this is.”

Heavy shrugged after a moment’s consideration. “Just that all day I would be here to help if Doktor needed it,” he said, which wasn’t untrue, just not the full truth.

And Medic seemed to suspect that, but he didn’t say anything, just tucking back into the food.

At some point, Medic took a brief nap. Not brief in the usual sense, brief in that he shook awake with no small amount of thrashing and panic about twenty minutes into falling asleep. He waved off Heavy’s concern and tried to go back to sleep again, and it repeated. A third time. A fourth time.

By then, it was getting late. Medic said he promised that he wouldn’t get up and do any moving around or anything if Heavy wanted to go and sleep in his own room instead of sleeping in a chair again.

But he hesitated when he said it, and Heavy couldn’t help but ask about it.

It was with great difficulty and a lot of careful wording that Medic admitted that usually he didn’t even get those twenty minutes of sleep before he woke up again. Usually it was five or ten at most, and then he couldn’t fall back asleep again. But he felt mildly comforted in some ways because he knew—

And that was where he cut himself off, refused to say more for a long few minutes. When he finally spoke again, he wouldn’t look at Heavy, head tucked forward, staring very pointedly at nothing.

He finally admitted, he felt mildly comforted in some ways because he knew that he was safe, with Heavy there.

Heavy didn’t need to hear any more than that. He pulled over one of the gurneys and slept on that for the night, and every night after that until Medic was fully, entirely recovered.

-

“Doktor?” Heavy called, pushing into the infirmary and glancing around. “Team time.”

“Ja, ja, one moment,” Medic said, waving him off with one hand, the other pouring birdseed into the little feeder he kept for his doves. He brushed his thumb over Archimedes’s head to dislodge some kind of dust or mess, tsk’ing him quietly, before setting the bird down and scooping up his coat on the way to the door. “What is breakfast?”

“Engineer makes, er... toast, with egg and cinnamon,” Heavy explained, looking down at the food in question, the name escaping him momentarily as he picked up the Medigun and starting to walk, Medic on his heels.

“French toast?” Medic supplied, moving to pull on his coat, glancing backwards to check that the infirmary door closed behind him.

“No, it was Engineer who made it, not Spy,” Heavy joked, and was promptly scoffed at and elbowed, Medic falling into step beside him. Once Medic had done up his coat, Heavy handed him the slices, and Medic ate them quickly and efficiently, brushing his hands off before he took the Medigun from Heavy. “Did Doktor get enough sleep?”

“More than usual,” Medic agreed, sounding pleased.

“Good,” Heavy nodded, holding the door for Medic as they got to the hall to the locker rooms. “Sleep is important.”

“I know, Heavy,” Medic said, rolling his eyes a little, “I do not need to be babied.”

“Is not babying, Doktor is not a baby,” Heavy protested. “Is caring about teammate and friend.”

Medic rolled his eyes again, but despite his best efforts, Heavy just barely caught a glimpse of a smile on his face, and that was enough.

“Hey, Doc! Sup, Heavy!” Scout called as they entered the locker room, and the rest of the team called out similar greetings. Heavy just nodded at them and Medic gave a small wave as he went to get the rest of his equipment, Heavy splitting off to do the same.

“How’re you doin’, Doc?” Engie asked cheerfully, lacing up his boots.

“Fine, fine,” Medic said. “Yourself?”

“Alright. Enjoy the breakfast?”

“It was good, although I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever get used to how much butter and fat people in America use on everything,” Medic admitted.

“I said the same thing,” Spy chimed in from nearby, startling Heavy slightly, who hadn’t noticed he was there.

“Well, Heavy’s not an American either, and he liked it well enough,” Engie defended, and Heavy nodded his agreement.

“It is more energy to fight better,” Heavy said simply. “Is not a bad thing.”

“It is important to eat healthy foods and get a balanced diet,” Medic said almost mechanically, automatically.

“But it’s more important to eat at all,” Engie pointed out.

Medic didn’t have a good rebuttal for that.

And he didn’t say it out loud, because Heavy knew that to push too far would feel patronizing, but he did notice some things just then, watching Medic calibrating the Medigun. How sharp and clear his focus seemed to be. His dark circles were nearly gone. His face had a healthy amount of color, and his posture was straight but relaxed, almost effortless, and his movements were efficient. And when he looked over at Heavy to check that he was ready to go, his voice was crisp, unwavering, and there was life there behind his eyes. Really, genuinely, life there behind his eyes.

And he knew there would be slumps, next time Medic picked up a project or something went wrong or they had one day of losses too many. But maybe it was worth all this work just to have a moment or two of seeing that life there.

Just maybe.

[lostgirlrewatch]

1x11 - Faetal Justice (gettin real tired of your puns, Michelle, jk I never will)

Written by: Peter Mohan

Directed by: Robert Lieberman

Original Air Date: November 28, 2010

Oops. I missed a week. Sorry :( I’m back with episode 1x11.

Dyson gets framed for murdering some Dark Fae, and the gang has to prove him innocent.

Hey, remember the club, guys? Remember what that was like? Also Vex is back. Yay.

I wish my kitchen looked that fancy. I can’t keep vegetables that fresh. Their setup only looks like it will produce tasty food, though, because apparently they can’t cook for shit.

I am excited enough to see Hale that I took this screenshot for no reason.

But anyway, Bo and Kenzi are of course investigating the crime, as they do, while Dyson invokes sanctuary back at the Dal. Which basically means that Trick clears the whole bar out and lets Dyson hang out there for some amount of time where the Dark Fae can’t immediately come after him for killing one of their own.

They end up back at the club that Dyson woke up next to, which is Vex’s club. They start to suspect Vex may have something to do with framing Dyson for the murder. I can’t imagine why.

Vex makes a comment about how “another killer in the room (Bo) adds to the excitement,” to which Kenzi fiercely replies that Bo isn’t a killer. Vex is skeptical, considering how many people she has killed over the years, and suggests that he and Bo compare “scores.”

That hit below the belt.

Evony arrives at the Dal to pick up Dyson, in spite of sanctuary, because she has decided that the rules don’t apply to her. “Just think of me as a VIP,” she says. “I do.”

What a queen. Listen, is she wrong? Do the rules apply to Evony? Need they?

She has such queen energy that I love every time she shows up, even if she does absolutely nothing except make snarky comments. You have to appreciate the dominating energy of the woman in charge of the entire darker half of the supernatural underworld. She eventually backs off though.

Meanwhile, to Bo’s surprise, Lauren shows up at the precinct to discuss the case with her and Hale. (Hale invited her, and didn’t think to tell either of them that the other would be there, because he has no idea what’s going on between them.)

Bo is still pissed as fuck. I didn’t bother getting a screenshot, but the glare she gives Lauren is just as withering as it was last time.

So Lauren does...science-y stuff, I guess. I don’t really listen to what she’s saying when she talks about her science shit. I think Lauren is suggesting that Dyson turn himself in to the Dark Fae, though? So they can compare bite marks or something? Okay, I just rewatched the scene. Lauren suggests that Dyson turn himself in and wait while they go through a whole forensics analysis of the scene to determine his innocence (not acknowledging the possibility that evidence against Dyson may have been planted). Bo is like, “fuck no.” Lauren claims that in spite of the fact that she and Dyson “haven’t always been on the best of terms,” she is “actually trying to help here.”

It doesn’t end well. It’s awkward.

Hmm...*narrows eyes* Wait.

Stick around, Lauren fans. You’ll love this. I’m analyzing Lauren.

Lauren’s solutions to problems are always very...clinical. They’re clinical without fail, often to the point of being...not good solutions.

Lauren’s solution to Dyson’s problem--being accused of murder--is to have him turn himself in so that they can run tests and have the evidence prove him innocent. This is such a clearly half-assed idea, I don’t even really know why she suggested it. This idea is like if you could not care less about Dyson or this entire situation at all but you were dragged into being a part of the brainstorming session and you were forced to contribute something. It scans as laziness. Like either Lauren’s brain is too exhausted to put any energy whatsoever into trying to help Dyson, or she actually doesn’t care about him at all and is only there out of obligation and because of Bo. Hm.

Lauren’s solutions to problems don’t just rely on science, I get she’s a scientist and those are the skills she brings to the table. She goes a step farther. Her solutions are always devoid of emotion. Think about why that is.

I mean, turning Dyson in to the Dark Fae is objectively a terrible idea, first of all because they would one hundred percent immediately string him up and torture him for information. (Which is exactly what they do later in the episode!) Lauren is not stupid. She’s a smart gal. She should know this. If she knows that Dyson would be tortured, why would she suggest he turn himself in unless she has absolutely no emotional investment in his physical or mental wellbeing whatsoever? Again, it’s a clinical solution that treats the people involved as though they are pieces in a puzzle.

Second of all, Lauren suggests they run a bunch of tests and rely on forensic evidence to determine whether or not Dyson is innocent. She says, “Hopefully [the animal hairs on the body] won’t match Dyson’s DNA, and hopefully we’ll get [the results] on time.” 

“That’s way too many ‘hopefully’s,” Bo snaps back.

Lauren doesn’t seem that concerned with whether the hairs do or don’t match Dyson’s DNA. I mean, “hopefully” they won’t, but she is content to take the risk, let the situation play out, and let the evidence speak.

But she is also completely ignoring the possibility that even if the evidence incriminates Dyson, it might have been planted there by whoever is trying to frame him. What then? There would be no way to prove that it was planted in time--the Dark Fae would instantly execute him, and no one could stop them because he’d be in their custody. Even a cursory review of Lauren’s half-assed, not-thought-out plan reveals that it’s past risky and more in the realm of stupid.

So you tell me. I’m more interested in hearing what anyone else has to say about her than writing what I think. What is the deal with Lauren? Why is she like this? Is she so cold and unfeeling that she doesn’t have any concern for the physical and emotional wellbeing of others? Does she just not give a fuck about Dyson specifically? Or is she so burnt out and exhausted by the mental strain of her job and her enslavement that she can’t summon any emotional energy whatsoever, and has to completely rely on cold logic to offer anything at all?

I said Lauren fans would like this because I was analyzing her, but I neglected to mention that I would also be dunking on her. Sorry if you were duped. I feel like I offered her a way out at the end there, though. Give me all your pro-Lauren arguments if you feel so inclined.

Anyway, Bo and Hale have a nice little mini-conversation afterwards. Hale confesses that he once thought Bo might be bad for Dyson, that she’d break his heart or he’d destroy himself for her.

He tells her he was wrong, and that she’s “the real deal.” How sweet.

The only witness to the crime is apparently this human girl named Porscha, who reminds Kenzi a lot of herself. Porscha is also young, on the streets, and a runaway from a bad home situation. 

I don’t really care about her or like her as a character, but I do appreciate that her presence prompts Kenzi to drop a few more tidbits of information about her past here and there. For instance, she mentions that she’s been on her own since she was 15, which seems like a long time but is actually only like four years because Kenzi is 19 and therefore a literal baby. 

More interesting is this exchange. Porscha comments that it must be nice that Kenzi and Bo have each other. Kenzi responds a little awkwardly. She agrees that it is nice, but then she says that she’s still getting used to it. She’s still getting used to “being noticed.” Because when she was at home, she says, it was always better to not be noticed. “That’s when things got ugly.”

Yeah. So as if we didn’t already know, Kenzi comes from an abusive home. A home that was so awful that it was better to run away and be on the streets at 15. Then she was completely alone for four years, and homeless for that entire time. 

Think about it. Living with Bo like this must feel so odd. Kenzi has never lived in a house with another person before where it actually felt like a home and she actually felt safe. The way she sort of averts her eyes, tenses a little bit when she says she’s still getting used to it (Ksenia is fantastic as always by the way) is such a realistic portrayal of a response to recovery from trauma.

The way I like to think of it is this. Going from being in a long-term traumatic situation to being in a safe and loving situation is kind of like putting a frostbitten hand in warm water. Warming it up is good, it’s healing, but when your hand is so used to being cold, warming it up is going to hurt like hell. Recovering from trauma is kind of like that. Good things can hurt, especially when you’re not used to them.

But it doesn’t hurt quite so bad for Kenzi that she’s ready to flee and go back to being alone the streets, which is what is familiar to her. It just seems like it’s mildly uncomfortable. And that’s good. Because it means she can get used to being loved and having a family.

Jesus, why am I writing these things every week, they’re so long. LMAO help

So the episode ends with the reveal that it was the bartender all along! GASP! Side note: the whole reason this episode happened is because this bartender, who is clearly an adult man (physically in his 20s or 30s but actually much older since I assume he’s Fae?) was apparently “in love” with the human girl Porscha, who, based on her conversations with Kenzi, is definitely supposed to be a teenager. And also based on her conversations with Kenzi, Porscha has even “stayed over a few times” at his place. Can you say creepy? Adult man taking advantage of a young girl on the street who has no family and nowhere else to go? Grooming her? Just saying.

In a moment that I find somewhat disturbing and rather cold, the main gang all walk out and leave the bartender to be (most likely) brutally tortured and murdered by Vex and the Morrigan. That’s him up there. I mean, I know the Dark Fae are a practically untouchable political powerhouse, and there’s not really anything Bo and the others could do, but still. They totally just left this guy to his death.

But significantly, the episode ends with Bo and Dyson sharing a kiss, as they reaffirm their feelings for one another, and seemingly enter an official romantic relationship.

Oh boy! How cute. :) I wonder what’s next for these two.

Surely not heartbreak and suffering?

Big plot developments of the episode: Bo and Dyson are (it’s implied) officially an item now. This is Bo’s first legit committed relationship in the series. #dybo #neverforgetwhereitallbegan #rip #F and respect to the two people and a potato chip who like this ship #will this actually tag this post

[autumnpawtribe]

Just a moment in time - Vol'raka, Tiny, and Xiao Chun

Tiny had finally started to sleep long enough for her Papa and Ba to spend some more intimate time together.  It was a time to relax, and love, come together as a couple after so long apart.  Xiao laid against Vol, nuzzling into his neck in return to the trolls affections. "I love you so much, Vol... more than I ever thought I could." He whispered breathlessly still before giving a tiny chuckle. "I... did not hurt you, did I?" He finally asked, turning his head to kiss Vol's cheek and then gently press a kiss to his lips as he nuzzled their foreheads together. "No mah love."  He looked a bit sad that he hadn't been hurt, but kissed his mate on the top of the head softly.  "Ah be fine."  A soft chuckle accompanied the troll picking his mate up and tossing him over his shoulder.  "Ja gonna be crunchy furred.  Showah fer Xiao..." Xiao smiled and nodded. "I was worried, I think you are uh... bleeding in a few places." He said with a blush as he glanced down to Vol's thoroughly scratched up thighs as well as the few marks on his back. Before he could speak again, he squeaked in surprise as he was scooped up, clinging to his mate now as he was hoisted over his shoulder. "I miss being crunchy if it is from you..." He said with a little giggle as he hugged Vol's shoulder as he was carted off. "Nothin' wrong wit pain, lovah.  Ah crave et.  Ah'd say we fall asleep like dat, but Ah know dat any minute dat lil time bomb we got gonna wake up.  Ja take longah den me."  He swatted the pandaren on the ass just as he put him down.  "Get clean, ah gonna find pants.  Ah need a showah, get da tangles out mah hair an at least two houahs sleep." Xiao blushed a bit more, nodding. "I... almost forgot about your penchant for pain. I guess some part of me remembered otherwise I wouldn't have scratched you up like that." He said with a smile before squeaking in surprise as his ass was smacked. He turned around to lean up and give Vol a long, loving kiss before he could leave. "I... have never been happier than I am when I am with you. Never forget that. I promise, I will be here this time."  He said against Vol's lips, hugging him hard before sighing contently and pulling away to head off and do his oh so secret cleaning routine to keep his fur as wonderfully soft and plush as his mate had always known it to be. "Ja can scratch me up all ja evah want."  He'd never really let Xiao know how deep his want of pain went, one day maybe.  "Bettah be.  Scoot."  He busied himself with changing  and reswaddling their daughter and sitting next to her hammock to watch her sleep, singing another lullaby.  "Gotta sound proof ja room before we know et, hmm?" Xiao wandered off as his mate told him, the water running in the me functional but far less fancy shower since this wasn't the main home. Maybe an hour or so later, Xiao came back out, fur dry and wonderfully fluffy, grinning like a fool as he entered their daughter's room to find his mate. "Hey..." He nearly purred, love glowing in his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "Ja finally done...  longah den usual."  He sat in a chair, smiling as she ate and smirking.  "Second bottle en an houah.  Should warn ja.  Troll babies eat like big orc mons.   Bottomless pits mah ma'da once call em.  Get used ta dis, hmm?" Xiao chuckled a little. "There was more to clean up than normal. I also let my fur grow out a little more than normal so it takes longer to dry over the vent." He moved to sit across from Vol on the bed. "Do we have enough milk for her? You said it is goat milk, right?" "Ja.  Goats be outside at dis house, da Vale and Hillsbrad.  Da Admiral say he can get a Tauren fer helpin' out.  She get fed, Get ever'ting ah can be gettin' er. "  He said a few words in Zandali, trying to teach her even at that age.  "Yuutee Saakes, Zutopong.  Skam m italaf deh'yo ackee..." "Good, the last thing we would want is our little girl to go hungry, though I know you would never let that happen." He smiled, patting the bed. "Here, you two should come over here. Let her Ba feed her?" He asked with a hopeful smile. "What was that you said in Zandali just now, anyway? I still know... well, next to none of it, unfortunately." "Shadowhuntah, Daughtah.  Just a Hungry lil ting."   He stood and let Xiao hold the girl who was none too pleased about moving, and not eating right then and there.  "Ja get ta watch 'er a bit.  Showah."  Booping her daughter softly on the nose and doing the same to Xiao, he went to get himself clean, Xiao getting to deal with a whiny, amber eyed girl.  If Xiao looked, he'd see Vol's features, no doubt who sired her.  Amber eyes, the same green and gold hair, with the barest bright highlights of blue, and the same strong nose.  She looked up toward him, too young to focus on anything or properly see him. Xiao happily took the little bundle, cradling her against his bare chest, having only put on some loose linen pants after his shower. "Do not worry, I have her." He said with a smile as Vol headed off to take his now. He stared down at her now, having some true quality time with his daughter. Seeing his mate in her eyes, her hair, so much of him in every part of her. It actually made a tear come to his eye. He whispered to her in Pandaren now, letting the girl hear him speak in something other than his stilted and heavily accented Orcish. "My dearest daughter.. I will give you anything and everything I can... your papa and I, we will give you the world. You are the gift we never saw coming, the missing piece we never knew we were missing. Some day, you will have a brother or a sister. Your life will be filled with happiness, adoration, praise... and above all, love. This I promise you." He kissed her forehead gently, a single tear dripping down onto her cheek and causing him to chuckle as he leaned up and noticed it. "A little salty rain never hurt, hm?" He continued to murmur, wiping off the tear with the fur of his thumb. "You have not seen it yet, but your home... our home, the place we will eventually be a family, forever... your room will be everything you have ever dreamed of. Everything for our baby girl." It was then he gasped. "Vol!" He called out in Orcish now. "I have an idea, we need to talk when you are done showering!" He sounded excited, but his smile faded as he cringed, the loud noise making the poor girl fuss and cry. "Sorry, my lovely." He cooed in Pandaren again. "Ba is sorry, little one, shhh, it is alright. Here." He shook her bottle a bit, jostling the milk and getting her attention with the warm sustenance, quickly quieting her as she went back to drinking happily. "Talk bout what, hmm?"  He came out, clothed in a towel around his waist and one going at his hair.  "Et wait until ah able ta find pants.  Ever' tin' be down at da Vale or Hillsbrad."  Green locks were flopped over on one side and he had freshly shaved the sides of his head down to the skin.  "Gonna need ta clean tings up en 'ere."  He looked around, the room his daughter was sleeping in for the time the same she was born in.  "Ja gonna teach 'er Pandaren, ah gonna teach 'er Zandali.  Gonna get REshka ta teach her Thalassian..  an ALL of us be teachin' orcish." Xiao practically wiggled in his spot on the bed. "Maybe I do not want you to find pants." He said with a little grin. "Remember that... illusion on the top of the canopy in our bed in the Vale? I was thinking for her room, I could have Kyl do the entire room as an illusion. Instead of just normal wallpaper, we could have... an entire scene. Maybe a waterfall, a beautiful view, stars on the ceiling. I am not sure exactly. Ooh, maybe we could do a view from stranglethorn! Something to remind her of where she came from? I wanted to ask because, well, you said you had investments. I was hoping you might have some excess laying around. It would not cost nearly as much as the house upgrades did, the illusions were fairly cheap, actually. The thing that did the most damage, gold wise, was the engineered magically contraptions like the shower, the self-cleaning bed, and all of the, well, everything in the stables. I just thought, you know, it would be calming and beautiful?" "No.". He dragged the towel over his head and looked to Xiao intently.  "Not paying Kyl Dem prices.   He gonna learn ta haggle like a troll.   His price took ja  away.   Not happening again.   Stranglethorn be where she concieved.  Ja really tink ah wanna be reminded of dat?".  He wasn't made just matter of fact.  "We look into et, aftah ah surah day dat fuckin snakr not gonna slitha enta ouaj bed an kill me.  She not gonna appreciate et fer a long while.  Patience, lil love.  When ettime, we talk more on et." Xiao blinked. "No?" Then he heard the rest and nodded. "Kyl may haggle, honestly I do not know. I... did not think to try." He blushed a bit, never having been one to haggle. Then he frowned a bit sadly at the mentions of Stranglethorn. "Sorry, I thought Stranglethorn might be good, I didn't know that was where it happened." He shook his head. "I just did not think it through I guess." He said as he peered down at Tiny now, biting his lower lip and feeling a bit silly for his idea now. "We gonna figuah out sumpin, lil love.  Fer now, she not gonna care ef da walls be all white or just stone.  She gonna be en ouah room till we can get sometin so we can hear when she need us.". With a small kiss on his love's nose and a smile, he whispered softly.  "Ah not mean ta sound harsh.  Ja not know where dis all happen.  We both do thinking on et.  Sides, where she come from be Pandaria.  Dis da land of er birth, ja?"

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Some Other Night

Pairing: biker!bucky x reader

Word Count: about 3.2k (yall i got carried away)

Warnings: lotta fluff tad bit of angst yall know the drill

a/n: long italicized portions are memories! let me know what yall think!!! if yall have any suggestions or requests just message me!!!

my other fics

The bar wasn’t far from home, and because it was summertime the sun still shone with its bright golden glow even though it was nearly seven o’clock, so Y/N decided to walk to the bar and catch a ride back home with Bucky.

The aroma of fried food, alcohol, and cigarette smoke enveloped her senses the moment she entered. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit interior for him—he wasn’t hard to miss. He stood with his back to her, his loose bun and familiar broad shoulders distinguishing him from the rest of his group of biker buddies, a fairly large group of men and like, two women. This was their hangout spot on Saturday nights, which she knew, having been with Bucky and the group for about two and a half years now. Y/N herself wasn’t a biker, she had actually met Bucky at the auto-repair shop he worked in. She went in with the intention of getting an oil change for car and ended up being sweet talked into going on a date with him. One date turned into two, two to three, and so on...until before she knew it they were a legitimate item. This prompted her, of course, to get to know his friends. He had told her that they were his family, the most family he’d ever had anyway.

Sam was the first to spot Y/N upon her entry. He flashed her a wide grin before shouting, “Wifey’s here!”

Bucky turned, beer in hand, a doting look on his face. “Hey, baby doll,” he greeted warmly, opening his arms to welcome her forthcoming embrace.

As her arms wound around his neck a mocking snort of disgust was heard, probably from Nat. “Buck, you big softy,” Steve tsked, earning a giggle from Y/N. It was still amazing to her how different Bucky could be towards his friends and towards her. There were two very different sides to him, an unbeknownst fact to outsiders looking in. He could be so warm and playful, other times so stoic and vulgar. At times like these she got to see both sides at the same time.

“I’ll still kick your ass, Rogers,” he quipped gruffly, pressing a kiss to the side of Y/N’s head. His free hand rested on the small of her back. “I thought you had to work late tonight, doll. What ya doin’ here?”

“What, am I intruding?” she replied in an amused tone, parting from their warm embrace to give the group a look that seemed to say ‘Get a load of this guy.’

“No, doll, it’s-” he began to sputter apologetically, earning teasing laughs from the group.

“Cool it, Romeo, I’m kidding,” Y/N grinned taking his beer from his hand and taking a swig.

“You have got this man whipped,” Sam sang teasingly.

“How many times are you going to say that, Wilson? No, really? How many more do you have left in you? Can we get an estimate?” Tony sarcastically asked.

“Yeah, Wilson,” Bucky chimed with a satisfied grin.

Tony turned to him and tutted, “I’m not defending you. You’re whipped. I’m just tired of hearing Wilson chirping it all the damn time like a fucking parrot.”

Sam’s brows raised before a coy look befell upon his features. “So it’s not the fact that I’m saying it, it’s the tune? Well why you ain’t say that, man? I can fix that right now, hold on, look.” He cleared his throat in preparation.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N cut in with a loud laugh, “We don’t need none of that, Sam...Anyways, what’s goin’ on gang? How’s everybody been?”

It was a simple inquiry, but it was a question that had kicked off the entire night, as it often did. They spent time dishing on their love lives, family lives, personal lives. They had been a close-knit group before Y/N came into the picture—very close...and they hadn’t collectively accepted her with open arms at first. They weren’t unpleasant, but she could tell they were guarded. Wanda was welcoming, by far the sweetest out of the bunch. She assured her that the group would warm up to her...it would just take some time.

“Look, Bucky, I don’t know about this.”

“C’mon, what’s the big deal, doll face. We both know they’re all gonna love ya! Plus, you’ll be hangin’ with me, so you know you’ll have a good time,” the blue eyed devil winked playfully.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Too soon?” he scoffed, brows furrowing. “Never too soon to meet the gang! These are the people I spend the most time with—they’re like family!”

“Family? Buck…” She stood between  his legs. He was seated on the edge of his bed, her hands resting gently on his shoulders.

“Not my real family, but you know. Friend family.” The cool metal fingertips of his left hand gently ghosted across the bare skin of the back of her thigh.

“Still family. What if they don’t like me?”

“Then they’re bigger dumbasses than I thought.”

“I don’t think I’m hardcore enough for these people. They all have Harley’s and cool jackets,” she pointed out factually, lips pursing. “I don’t got that shit.”

“You’re hardcore enough for me,” Bucky grinned that wolfish grin of his. “You like it real hardcore, huh, doll?” he asked teasingly, bringing her down onto the bed with him in one abrupt, swift motion. He began tickling her relentlessly, “Say it, doll! Say it: ‘I’m hardcore!’” He had her in a fit of side-splitting giggles. The sound of her laugh was like a symphony in his ears. It was a beautifully contagious sound, he found himself laughing too. “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you say it!”

“I’m—” the giggles kept her from finishing the phrase.

“You’re what?” he asked mockingly. “Hurry up, dollface! My hands are gettin’ real tired.”

“I’m hardcore!” she shouted, her chest heaving as his hands left her body. Her hands flew up to wipe the tears from her eyes, her laughter slowly subsiding. “Get off of me you fucking neanderthal. I can’t breathe.”

He chuckled and climbed off of her. He pressed a sloppy, lingering kiss to her lips. “So you’ll come. They’ll love ya. You said it yourself, you’re hardcore.”

“Gang, this is Y/N,” Bucky introduced her happily. “Y/N this is...well, everybody.”

She received a collective murmur of hellos and heys as a response. She caught a pretty redhead’s eye for a moment and she smiled. The redhead scowled in response. Y/N noticed the weary look in the broad shouldered, bearded man’s eyes. What did that mean?

The group dispersed on their own after a brief, unexciting conversation amongst themselves and Y/N,  some heading to the kitchen to get drinks, others going off to mingle with other partygoers.

Buck smiled at her, “I think that went fairly well.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/N shrugged before she herself left to grab a drink.

At the party that evening, Y/N felt completely out of place. Bucky, being the gentleman he was, was hesitant to leave her side when she told him to go mingle with his friends. It took a little convincing, but she finally got him to leave her alone—she couldn’t look like some wimp that wasn’t capable of making her own friends. While she knew she had to go out on a limb here and approach them herself, she wasn’t striving to please anyone. She wanted them to like her, but she wasn’t willing to go out of her way to make herself especially likable tonight.

“Y/N,” someone called out to her above the thrum of the music. She turned to see one of Buck’s friends approaching her. A girl with long brown hair, a very pretty smile on her face. “Hey, you’re one of Bucky’s friends. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m Wanda,” she introduced herself, a toothy grin on her face.

“Wanda,” Y/N repeated. “Buck talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope.”

Y/N smiled, “Oh, always. He speaks very highly of you,”

“He speaks highly of you too, y’know? You’re all we hear about. It’s always Y/N this, Y/N that...That man...he’s gone. You’ve got him.”

A betraying heat rushed to her cheeks as she tried to hide her sheepish little grin. Bucky talked about her to his friends? That was a normal thing to do...why did it make her so tingly and warm inside?

“Oh, I hope I’m not freaking you out...he just...he really likes you, that’s all. Bucky doesn’t tend to like women enough to want to keep them around for too long, you know?”

“I didn’t, but now I do I guess,” she laughed.

“Yeah, uh, don’t tell him I told you that...it’s just the few times he has invested in a girl...girls are mean,” she concluded. It was enough for Y/N to understand what she meant. They were weary of him getting hurt again, which made sense. No one ever wants to see their friends get hurt, especially at the hands of another. “Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy he has you...and...don’t mind everyone else, okay? Mostly Steve, he’s protective over him. Nat too.” Wanda shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and offered another one of those warm smiles. “They’ll warm up to you, just give it some time. They’re real nice people.”

“No, no, no,” Nat objected quickly, waving her hands dismissively. “How many times do I have to tell you this? You guys don’t get to talk about sex. You’re fucking each other,” she exclaimed.

It was nearing eleven o’clock now. The gang had been there for hours, talking about absolutely everything and nothing all at the same time. The found themselves squished in the same booth, those who couldn’t fit pulled up chairs near the booth. Y/N was wedged between Bucky, who had his arm wrapped around her protectively, and Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’ve heard eighty million of your guys’ sex stories,” Y/N responded.

“But, we know both of y’all. Not just one,” Sam explained factually as if it were a science. “It’s just different.”

“She likes it rough,” Bucky stated, wiggling his eyebrows as he looked amongst his group of friends.

“Yes, we’ve heard,” Sam sneered, his nose wrinkling in disgust. A similar look graced Steve’s face, who, despite his facial hair and longer locks, had a very boyish manner about him. Y/N sunk in her seat, her face flushing with an embarrassed glow. “Oh, no—don’t act all shy now. You wasn’t shy when you was doin’ all that yellin’ and moanin’ at Tony’s New Year’s party.”

Thor laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with every eb of laughter. “Oh, Bucky—Oh my God, Buck—ow!” His eyes averted to Bucky, who had kicked him beneath the table. “Not necessary.”

“So, since you two are so open to airing out your dirty laundry, let me ask you this,” began Tony, “when are you two gonna tie the knot?”

“Tie what knot?” Y/N glanced up at Bucky with a playful glint in her eye before she took a few fries from the plate in the middle of the table. They were eating in attempt to sober up enough to make their short rides home.

“The marriage knot.”

“We don’t call her wifey for nothin’,” Sam chirped. There was a pause. Y/N had an inexplicably coy little smile on her lips. She and Buck had only barely discussed the prospect of marriage, though she was very enamored with the idea of being his wife. She stuffed a couple more fries into her mouth, as her friends looked at her expectantly. She turned her gaze to Bucky, she mirrored their expectant gazes.

“Yeah, Buck. When you plan on tying me down for good, huh?”

“Who’s to say I didn’t plan on doing it tonight, hm?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he peered down at her.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Shut up, James.”

“If I asked you to marry me right now, what would you say?”

“I’d say...no, probably,” she teased.

Bucky nodded slowly, began digging in the pocket of his jeans. “In that case,” he began, a cheeky grin coming to his lips as the entire table was silenced. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he was still digging in his pocket. “Will you do me the honor of putting my phone in your purse?” From his pocket he pulled his cellphone and placed it on the table in front of them. There was a mischievous grin on his face. “Please?”

“You damn bastard.”

He got a lot of shit for that one. Steve was convinced he was going to see a proposal and was extremely let down. Tony was just pissed. Sam thought it truly was a “dick move”. Wanda and Nat both said they would kill him, if Y/N desired. Thor thought it was funny.

The conversation changed topic shortly afterwards, returning to raunchy stories of the sexual escapades of the group. And though Y/N loved nothing more than laughing it up at the expense of her friends past sexual ventures, the idea of marrying Bucky was awfully prominent in her mind. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for them. They already lived together, they shared everything. She adored him, she loved him. He loved her too. She didn’t need a ring to prove that love to herself or to him or to anyone else...but still...it was such a magical idea. Was it cliche to think that?

“I think I’ll marry you someday,” Bucky slurred as he walked clumsily into the house, using Y/N as support.

“You’re super drunk, Buck.”

“I mean it. No really, I do,” he insisted with a crooked smile. His eyes were barely open. She led him into the kitchen and handed him a cup of water.

“Drink that.”

“Y/N, doll face, I’m serious.”

She leaned her back against the sink, arms crossed over her chest while she watched the drunken man take tentative sips of his water, his tall figure swaying just slightly. It had been about six months since the couple had began dating. Never in her life had she seen him drunk like this. He was a man who could hold his liquor, she supposed he must’ve gotten carried away—or most likely, Thor had brought that good shit. Within the few months of their relationship it had been difficult getting him to open up, she learned that his feelings, specifically his feelings for her, poured out of him when he was drunk. She wondered if that would ever change.

“Are you listening?” he placed the glass on the counter and stumbled across the kitchen over to her, his hands resting on the edges of the counter on either side of her. He was closing her in, leaving her no room for escape.

“Mhm, I’m listening, James.”

“I love it when you call me that...when you call me by my name. It’s different when you say it.”

Y/N could not hide her grin, her hands reaching up to cup either side of his face. He leaned his head lovingly into her touch, a sigh leaving his lips, his breath tart with the heavy smell of the alcohol.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Only...only if you’ll say you’ll marry me.”

“Not tonight I won’t.”

“Some other night then, huh doll?” he asked, his innocent tone almost making her wish that she had said yes the first time.

“Yeah, baby, some other night.”

Bucky gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, he brought his lips closer to her ear. It was nearing twelve thirty now. “You wanna get out of here?” She nodded in reply, her head tilting back slightly to rest against his chest.

“Alright guys, we’re gonna head out,” he announced. They slid out of the booth together, one after the other.

“I’ll see y’all later, alright?” Y/N smiled at those who remained in the booth and gave a little wave. Despite her attempts to say goodbye were missed though, the group before her shared a collective gasp, their eyes focused on something behind her. She turned to find that Bucky was no longer standing, but was down on one knee.

Her breath hitched audibly in her throat. What the hell? Her hands flew up to her mouth as she looked down at him. There was an earnest smile on his lips and his eyes shone like the most beautiful blue jewels she’d ever seen. There was a stillness in the air that made her heart race. This couldn’t be real.

Bucky reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, that earnest expression shifting into one of pure confusion as he pulled out a pack of gum. He looked to the group and then back to his girl. “What? I bent down to tie up my shoe, then I found some bubblegum in my pocket.”

From behind her, Y/N could hear Steve muttering, “You fucking punk.” Steve was not one to swear.

She dropped her hands from her mouth, they were now balled up into fists at her sides. If she was a little crazier she might have punched the shit out of him. When he stood he towered over her. Perhaps that would have been intimidating if she wasn’t so pissed. “You’ve gotta be really evil to do some shit like this, you got me excited for nothing!” she accused angrily, though there was a hint of a grin threatening to curl at her lips.

“You want a piece?” he offered, holding out the pack to her.

She did not hesitate to hit it out of his hand, “No I don’t want none of your bullshit gum! What the fuck?”

“What? You said no earlier, now I know you’d say yes,” he teased. He knew she would have said yes tonight or any other night that he might have chosen to ask her. He just enjoyed being an asshole sometimes.

“Whoop his ass, Y/N!” Sam exclaimed from behind her. His statement was met with a clamor of vocalized agreement from the others.

“I love you, baby doll,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he began to lead her towards the door.

“I should punch you in your face right now,” she shook her head in incredulous disbelief. She and the entire group, had fallen for the same trick twice in the same night. “So you plan on actually proposing sometime or what? I promise you will die if you do this again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“Alright, fine. Soon, I think.”

“You think?”

“Actually, I know.”

“Alright then when?” 

“Dollface, you’ll never see it comin’. It’ll be when you least expect it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll let you do that when we get home,” he winked.

[rezares]

Inni Mnih / War & Peace

In which Rory accidentally falls asleep and wakes up to a new achievement; alternatively: Rory’s Now A Level Six Friend And Unlocks The Tragic Backstory

@roryybriar

Title

Word Count: 4443

tw: blood, violence, oppression

REZA

 Reza was getting used to this whole ‘running for public office’ thing. He wasn’t needing to cut a valium in half and take it when thinking about it too hard anymore, so that was a start. Aurora still had the fire lit under her feet more than he did, but you know, he was invested.

 Even if he hadn’t lived in town long, it was important to him that this be a safe place for his family. For at least the next two years, until Lamia’s finished her undergrad at least, he’d be here, helping support her education. If she chose to go to medical school at Pride U as well, then Reza would probably stay here. Moving was a hassle. Why leave somewhere you’re comfortable? If Lamia chose to go elsewhere, Reza and Fadela probably wouldn’t tag along next time. If he did move, he’d probably just go back to Tunisia- dangerous and unfavorable for sorcerers, but home - or Austria, since his mother was there. Maybe New Zealand would be a good place to settle; magick-friendly, lots of fluffy sheep. Not a bad place.

 Then again, maybe Swynlake, England, will grow on him more than it already has. Maybe he already has settled.

 He turned his head to Aurora, his apprentice and campaign manager, and tried to peek at the writing in her notebook.

 AURORA

 Aurora was loving being a campaign manager. Really, she was having the time of her life! What she wasn’t loving was how it was fucking with her sleep schedule.

 Her naps were all over the place, she was taking more potions to stay awake through events; not to mention the fucking cursed cymbal monkey was causing her to lose sleep, too. Overall, Aurora was Tired All The Time.

 Take, for example, right now. She knew she and Reza were supposed to be going over practice questions for the debates and finalizing some of the details for their first fundraiser, but she was falling asleep on the job. The curse pulled at her body, exhaustion washing over her as gravity seemed to press her down into Reza’s couch, and her head lolled and nodded as she struggled to stay awake. She barely noticed Reza trying to peek at her notebook, and halfheartedly nudged him away with her bare foot against his leg. She tried to think of something witty to say about keeping his eyes on his own paper, but only managed a small mumble of gibberish and a large yawn.

 REZA

 “Aurora,” Reza began quietly. “I can drive you home if you’re too tired for this today, we can work on this later. You’ve been drilling questions into my head so much that I have answers and counterpoints memorized verbatim.”

 And that wasn’t a joke. At all. Something true about Aurora was that whenever she lacked experience, she made up for it in droves with her determination.

 Whether on the campaign trail, or in his workshop, Reza didn’t doubt her ability to do well - even if, with the latter, it took a lot of trial and error. (For now. See, now that he knew about her curse, it was a challenge for him, a code he had to crack, and it was going to drive him mad if he didn’t stop thinking about it.)

 AURORA

 Aurora knew the moment Reza asked that she was not going to make it home. She could barely keep her eyes open now, she’d be out like a light before they even got to the car. So instead, she just shook her head, sliding down further into the couch and bringing her knees closer to her chest.

 “Won’-” she yawned “- make it. I’ll be fine. Jus’ sleepy.”

 Her head dipped towards her chest, and within moments, the curse had pulled her back under and Aurora was deep asleep; curled around her notebook like a stuffed toy.

 REZA

 Reza shook his head at her as she fell asleep. Annoyed? No. Disappointed that she bothered coming today when she was feeling so tired? A little. He never wanted her to put her own health on the backburner to run his campaign, or to come over and study.

 As he watched her curl around the notebook like it was her teddy, Reza clicked his tongue at her and just kind of...paused there a moment. Let her sleep, he knew that much from her naps during lessons. Except those naps were in his workshop when Fadela and Lamia wouldn’t be around to disturb her.

 The living room of their house was not so sacred. Any minute now, they’d be home from their trip to NTO and Reza was not going to have a tired, angry Aurora in campaign manager mode versus student mode on his hands.

  He simply refused.

 “My knee is going to hate me in an hour,” he muttered, his decision made. Gently, Reza, gently. He slid his arms under her sleeping figure and scooped her up with mild hesitation - being deadweight and all -  making sure her head didn’t flop about.

 The walk to his bedroom was just up the stairs - the guest bedroom downstairs was full of boxes from the move, still two years later, and Lamia used the spare upstairs as a study room, and he wasn’t about to walk into the disaster zones that were his sisters’ bedrooms. For two people who like their work spaces just so, their living spaces told another story.

 Reza placed Rory on top of his made up bed and scanned the room for a blanket.

 Should he cover her? Of course he should. Did she sleep with a ceiling fan on? Better to wake up a little chilly than drenched in sweat, probably.

 He carefully laid a blanket over her, left the fan on, and kept the door cracked so he might hear her wake up. Other than keeping an ear out, she was at the back of his mind as he started dinner. Sundays were one of Reza’s nights to cook.

 AURORA

 It was nearly two hours before Aurora began to stir in Reza’s bed. She shifted closer to the pillows, legs thrown haphazardly across the bed as she breathed in deep. It wasn’t the somewhat-familiar smell of Reza’s house that greeted her, though; instead the smell of laundry soap and the faint smell of man sweat. The oddness of the fact began to pull Aurora closer to wakefulness, and she rolled onto her back as she stretched and arched.

 Yeah, this was way more space than she should have on the couch. Where was she?

 Aurora propped herself up on her elbows as she looked around sleepily, blinking the magic and exhaustion from her eyes. She was in… a room? A man’s room, by the look of it. But why would she be in a-

 Oh. Right. Reza.

 Had she been more awake, the revelation might have sent her scrambling out of bed, embarrassed and red from head to toe. Insted, she just groaned and flopped back onto the bed, one arm over her eyes. Great, she had passed out and then put to bed like a child. Always fun.

 (Wait, did that mean that Reza had carried her to bed, and she had missed it? She loved being carried; one of the perks of being Objectively Tiny.)

 Grumbling lowly, Aurora rolled onto her side as she slowly worked her way to being fully awake. She found herself looking at Reza’s bedside table, and a young, grinning face greeted her from inside a dark frame. Aurora propped her head up a little higher on her arm, reaching out to the picture to try and get a closer look, but her fingers only landing on the edge of the side table instead.

 Who was she?

 REZA

 She’s been out for a while, Fadela had said, helping herself to the dinner he was still cooking. Reza’s swatted her hand away and explained that that’s narcolepsy, and it wasn’t the first time. He didn’t mention that he suspected Rory’d been losing sleep over the cursed cymbals monkey thing, because Fadela would have only made fun of her.

 We get it, Fadela, you’re a stone cold bitch.

 Though.

 Fadela was right. It had been two hours, so maybe it was worth checking on her to see if she was alive. He was not in the mood to hide a body today, thank you.

 When he got to the top of the stairs, he didn’t hear her rustling around, as she’d stopped by then, so he turned on his heel to go back downstairs until he remembered - oh, right. Checking on someone required looking at them.

 He pushed open his bedroom door just enough to peek at her, and assuming she was still asleep, grabbed the handle to pull the door closed again as he made to back away.

 AURORA

 She heard the door open a bit, and shifted her head to look at the door and away from the mysterious little girl with the pretty curls of dark hair and warm eyes.

 Or at least, attempt to look at the door through her hair. She hadn’t pulled it up before passing out, so it was A Hot Mess.

 She could barely make out a tall figure on the other side, and hummed quietly at the back of her throat in greeting. It was quiet, barely-there sound, and Aurora didn’t really expect Reza to hear her.

 REZA

 Reza was a father. And a big brother who practically raised Lamia. His ears were fine-tuned to hear soft noises coming from sleepy daughters, sisters, and friends. He pushed his door open again and walked toward his bed, stopping a respectable ten feet or so away.

 “You’re up?”

 AURORA

 Aurora watched Reza approach, shifting a little so she wasn’t twisted up all over the bed as much. “Gettin’ there,” she responded, her voice soft and husky with sleep. She smiled up at him - or at least attempted to, she was still half asleep. “Thanks fer lettin’ me sleep here,” she murmured before glancing back at the photo.

 There was a family resemblance, definitely. Seeing Reza in the room with her only made it more obvious. “This Lamia?” Aurora asked softly, reaching out and falling short of the photo once again, instead tapping the edge of the nightstand.

 REZA

 His mouth was open to say ‘it was nothing’ when his eyes followed Aurora’s hand to the nightstand, and continuing onto her hand’s intended target when it missed. He snapped his mouth shut and crossed the room to the side of his bed to snatch up the picture.

 “No.” Reza said, a bit too urgently and too harshly, as he stared at the picture of the smiling little girl in traditional dress with palpable longing.

 How could he forget it was there and not take it with him?

 Well, he knew why. Because Reza trusted Aurora, because his guard was down around her. And, he didn’t need to be afraid here, he didn’t need to hide any evidence of his child like in Tunisia. It was different for sorcerers here.

 “This is a picture of my daughter.”

 AURORA

 Whatever response she had been expecting, that wasn't it. Aurora drew her hand back as quickly as she could with her heavy limbs when Reza crossed the room, blinking up at him in innocent and somewhat startled confusion.

 His harsh 'no’ was a little like a slap to the face, waking her a little more just from the shock. What the hell had she done wrong? She wasn't snooping, the photo was literally right there.

 She watched him look at the photo for a moment, silently marveling at how soft his features had gone in an instant even as her own confusion only increased.

 “This is a picture of my daughter.”

 Aurora blinked at him, still tucked safely against his pillows and under his blanket. “Daughter?”  she asked softly.

 REZA

 “Yes,” Reza said, his gaze fixated on the picture, one hand gripping the frame tight, the other, tracing the lines of his little girl’s face. “She was four in this picture. I haven’t held her in over three years.”

 He cleared his throat, pushing down the wetness there.

 Though nothing could stop his arms from aching for his sweet little girl.

 “I miss her very much. She was the highlight of every single day; just. First thing in the morning I woke up to.”

 AURORA

 Aurora watched Reza silently; the way he carefully traced the lines of his daughter's face, the longing in his eyes. It was a side of him she had never seen before, and she couldn't help but think it was incredibly sweet.

 (Though there was a tiny voice in the back of her head that whispered “Why didn't he tell me about her before?”)

 “She's beautiful,” Aurora said softly. She wanted to ask where she was, why his daughter wasn't living with him, but she didn't want to risk upsetting him. Especially since - judging by the way he was talking about her - there was probably a 50/50 chance she had died.

 The thought made Aurora want to cry. She thought of her little girl from the Hunger Games, of her body hitting the floor with a tiny, final thud, and shoved that thought as far from her head as she could.

 “Wha's her name?” Aurora asked instead, shifting onto her back as she could look up at Reza easier. She felt like she should have more questions than that, but her brain was still waking up.

 REZA

 “Thanks, I made that.” He joked, looking up from the photograph just long enough to give Rory a playful grin.

 His little girl was his proudest accomplishment. She was sweet, funny, and clever, and he loved her so much. Their three times weekly video chats were all he lived for.

 “Sabiha Ibitsam Ghadir Basira bint Reza Kasraoui-Müller. Sabiha means bright like morning, and she always was. Is still, I’m sure.” Reza looked over at Rory with a sad smile. “I only have her through video chat right now. She’s in Tunisia.”

 AURORA

 Oh, sweet, not dead. Aurora felt much less guilty about giggling at Reza’s joke now.

 “Tha’s a lovely name,” she told him with a soft smile. “I would butcher it, but tha’s on me.”

 Stretching her arms over her head one more time - the stretch going all the way down to her toes - Aurora slowly pushed herself up, stopping midway to let the blood rush through her head as it rolled around the room before landing back on her shoulders. It took a moment, but soon she was upright, one knee hugged close to her chest as she rested her cheek against it.

 “At least yer able to chat with her,” Aurora offered softly. “Why didn’t she move here with ye?” Tunisia was a dangerous place for Magicks to be, wasn't it? She couldn't imagine Reza would leave her behind for no reason.

 REZA

 He waited for her to get situated, smiling fondly at her and then keeping the expression as he looked back down at Sabiha’s picture.

 At her question, he almost physically recoiled. There wasn’t judgement in her voice or her expression, but he harbored plenty for the both of them. He was a terrible father, leaving his half-fairy sorceress daughter in Tunisia while he was safe. Even if it wasn’t really his choice it was inexcusable.

 “You don’t have to act like you aren’t thinking it. I know even calling me a father is...generous.” He set her picture down in its place on the nightstand, his fingers lingering over her face, before he cleared his throat and moved over to his desk, leaning back against it instead of bothering to sit down.

 He cleared his throat again and avoided looking at Rory, as if the shame he felt was physically preventing him.

 “Her mother is in Tunisia still. With her. She didn’t want to leave and refused to have her daughter leave her.” Reza shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “Rafika wasn’t and never was my wife or girlfriend or anything, there was no sway I could have held over her decision to stay, really. And it wouldn’t be fair.”

 “To make her leave her Hollow.”

 Reza folded his arms across his chest and began to pace the floor, slowly, so he didn’t dizzy Rory trying to follow him with her eyes. “I didn’t have a choice about leaving my country. I’d applied for political asylum in the past. To the US, Australia, and New Zealand. Declined, of course. I’m a dual citizen of the EU and Tunisia because my mother is Austrian, but despite me not having contact with her from ages 15-18, then 19-nearly 33, my life wasn’t in ‘tangible and bona fide’ danger in both countries I was a citizen of. By the time my daughter was born, I gave up on trying to leave purposely.”

 “But then there was a wedding, and a bomb anti magick people planted there, and I shielded Sabiha in time for it to be me who took a big injury instead of her entire little body being...she wouldn’t have survived. I barely did.” Truthfully, he’d wanted to die. It was by sheer willpower that he stayed awake, and told Sabiha to keep her eyes on his face so she wouldn’t think too much about how her dress was soaked in her father’s blood, and about how when she asked ‘Baba, does it hurt?’ he’d said ‘no’ because he was losing feeling as time passed.

 He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it as he heaved a frustrated sigh. He hadn’t meant to give Rory this much tragic backstory. But to explain why he didn’t have Sabiha, he had to.

 Reza reached for the bottle of boukha on the desk and took a big gulp. If he was going to finish this, he needed a drink. Or twenty.

 “Right, so.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “My father made me go to Austria for medical care. In my...state at the time, I wasn’t really any good for defending myself. My identity as the anonymous activist writer Ares - have I told you about that?- had been exposed shortly before the wedding. I had to leave. It wasn’t a choice anymore.”

 “My sisters came with me because my father insisted they enjoy the safety of Austria. Relative safety.” Reza laughed mirthlessly and took another swig from the bottle. “I wasn’t quite 33 when I left. My daughter was...mm, she was not yet five.”

 Another swig of boukha. “With physical therapy and several surgeries, I was able to walk again and keep both legs. By the time it was time to consider going home, Lamia was ready for university and heard of Swynlake. I was left at an impasse, a Catch-22 of sorts.

 “I could go home to Tunisia to my daughter, but live completely exposed where I’d likely not be able to find employment and a home to rent, or.” Another sip, for a dramatic pause. “I could follow my sisters here and live freely and able to make money to send to my daughter and her mother. That’s all I was ever good for, for Sabiha anyway. I don’t think she had any memories of me other than through her mother’s phone screen. Even when I was in Tunisia, I wasn’t with her much.”

 See? Barely a father. He should have been by his daughter’s side way more than he was, but he wasn’t. There was no excuse.

 Even if it was to provide for her.

 “We lived mainly in the city of Hammamet, but I was a bit of a nomad. Out of necessity. I worked as a fisherman in whatever city had someone willing to pay me the most, and if that was Sousse, Djerba, Tunis, Zarsis, or Kelibia, that is where I went for a few weeks of work.” His pacing came to a stop as his bad knee began to hurt, and he came to rest atop his desk rather than the chair. “When I wasn’t on the boats, I made money as a handyman, and by designing web pages with my mainly self-taught coding skills. When I wasn’t working, I was writing essays and fliers supporting magick rights.”

 Reza capped the bottle of liquor, not about to down the entire thing in front of Aurora, and pushed it to the opposite side of the desk. “If I couldn’t find good enough word fishing, I waited table or tended bars for the European, American, and Emirati tourists in whatever city had the best wages and earning outlook. And if that took me to Sidi Bou Said, Monastir, the Kerkennah Islands, or Mahdia, then that is where I went.”

 “I wanted to be able to put my daughter through private school and math and language tutoring; my raw magic is the gift of tongues, so even without intense study, I learned - mm, it’s not important how many - languages perfectly fine. We don’t know what hers is yet; I want her to learn English and German, because those will take her far in this globalized world. But that takes money in my country.” He tapped his fingers against the table and swallowed. “So I spent most of the time I could have held her working to save up to give her things in a few years, that she was too young to even understand. And not I’m here, not even able to go back to hold her, because it would put her in danger.”

 “Now...I’m not even good for money, if I returned to live in Tunisia. It’s better this way. This way, at least every pound I make translates to almost 3.70 Tunisian Dinar, and Rafika and my father can afford things like private school and tutoring, and extra after school activities, and nice vacations for Sabiha.” Reza swallowed hard, forcing his eyes to not water.

 They weren’t allowed. He didn’t want Rory’s sympathy. Only for her to believe he didn’t just abandon his child.

 “My daughter having a better life than I did is all I have ever wanted. And if all I can ever be for her is the reason that the money is available for that? Then that’s how it has to be. I sacrifice my happiness for hers and my father’s every day that I am here, but knowing she will have opportunities that I didn’t is…” Reza trailed off, and just.

 Smiled.

 “Enough.”

 AURORA

 Aurora had been Reza’s apprentice for almost three months now. She learned something new every day, and was growing as a person and a sorceress as he continued to teach her.

 This was, without a doubt, the most important lesson Reza had ever given her. Or likely ever would.

 Aurora lifted her head as she listened to Reza explain, her eyes following him around the room as he told her about his daughter, their brief time together, and the life he was trying to provide for her - even hundreds and hundreds of miles away. It made her heart ache, every word painting more of the picture of his life, and she…

 Well, she didn’t know what she wanted to do.

 Once he finished, tears stubbornly refusing to fall from his eyes, Aurora didn’t say a word. She simply swung her legs over the edge of the bed, moving slowly as she stood upright. Once she was sure she wasn’t about to collapse from vertigo, Aurora crossed the room to his desk; her bare feet padding against the floor softly. There was no hesitation as she brought herself between his knees, stepping as close to the desk as she could as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. Her hands fisted loosely in the back of his shirt as she pressed her cheek against his chest, staring at his shoulder as a few tears of her own rolled down her cheeks.

 (She wanted to tell him that he was so brave, willing to give his life for his daughter. She wanted to tell him that he was brilliant, working so hard to provide for her. She wanted to tell him that no matter how bad of a father he thought he was, he would never be a poorer parent than she was. She didn’t say any of that.)

 “You’re a wonderful father, Reza,” Aurora said softly. “No matter what you think. None of those decisions you made were easy, but you made them for her. I don’t think there’s a more honest and selfless way to love someone. One day, you’ll be able to see her again and tell her in person.”

 REZA

 Reza tensed up when he was hugged. It wasn’t the first time she’d hugged him, but she had just woken up from one of those narcolepsy naps, where there’s the vertigo, and the fucked perception of reality, and he was worried she’d stumble over -

 Oh, well she didn’t. And she seemed sturdy, but he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to return the hug just in case. He stopping hugging her back, but let his arm rest there.

 “I am not entirely sure I ever will, but when she is older, maybe she will understand me like I learned to understand my mother.” In time, Sabiha would.

 AURORA

 “You will,” Aurora said, her grip tightening for a moment and her eyebrows furrowing together with determination. She’d fly Sabiha and her mother out to Swynlake herself to visit, if she had to. She hugged him for a moment longer before slowly letting go, taking a small step back and not looking away from his chest as she wiped her eyes dry. Aurora laughed sheepishly.

 “Sorry, I… shouldn’t have hugged you like that,” she murmured, only meeting his eyes for a moment before glancing away. “Thank you, for telling me. For trusting me with all that.” When she met his eyes again, Aurora had a small, soft smile on her lips, even if there was still a pesky tear or two rolling down her cheeks.

 REZA

 “Right..no apology needed, but you’re not to ask me questions about any of that uninvited. I’ll talk about it when I want to and not a moment sooner or later,” Reza said, stern, but with a thin smile.

 The warning was more of a warning to not expect him to want to talk about it on demand, than an absolute ban on the subject.

 “Go home and rest, Aurora. We can work on collecting reagents tomorrow.”

[aubzylynn]

A December Deception [Part 1]

Word Count:��1597

Series Warnings: A few curse words, pining, fake dating, fake living together, group conspiracy, teasing, probably second hand embarrassment?, and last but not least: Christmas (I feel like this is a legit warning).

Summary: Prompt found on Pinterest: I told my sister I have a boyfriend so she’d stop trying to set me up with people but now she’s coming to visit I’m in too deep I need a boyfriend ASAP.

A/N: Aaaaahhhhhh I’m freaking out. I’ve never EVER in my life posted the start to a series without having at LEAST half of it written! Please be patient with me updating this. I’m still working 3 jobs. I’m gonna shoot for updates on Fridays, okay? Sound good?  This series is also a cry for help. I spent forever in the “Steve Rogers fluff” tag trying to find some cute fluffy fics and everything that was coming up was either angst, or Steve cheating on the reader, or reader cheating on Steve WITH BUCKY which would never happen okay, or reader leaving Steve for someone else…and I want to help rectify the situation. So here, take this Stevie fluff fest. Special shout out to @sarahwroteathing. She’s always so supportive and amazing and I’m so lucky that she’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her

Please comment and let me know what you think! Being as busy as I am, I’m not going to invest time in this fic if nobody likes it, ya feel? 

[A December Deception Masterlist]

“Noooooo! No, no, no, no, no!” You cry out, tossing your phone over Wanda’s legs, and falling face first into the couch.

Wanda chuckles and tries to smooth your hair away from your face. “What’s wrong, honey?”

You push the top of your head into her thigh, groaning. “My sister’s coming over for Christmas.”

“Friendmas,” Maria corrects.

“I thought she was going to your parents’ for Christmas?” Pepper asks, coming back to the living room with a new bottle of wine.

“She was; but, apparently, they’ve decided to go on an Alaskan cruise.”

Natasha took the bottle from Pepper and filled her glass before refilling yours and Wanda’s, too. “So, what’s the problem? Why aren’t you stoked to have her over?

You sit up, hands flying to your face. Pushing the heels of your hands into your temples, you shut your eyes tightly against the judgmental looks you’re bound to receive. “She, uh. She tries to set me up with everyone.”

“Oh, no!” Wanda laughs, “What an awful sister! Is she bringing some hunky fireman to dinner?”

“Nooo…that’s.” You sigh and drag your fingers down your face dramatically. “Uh, okay here’s the problem. She thinks I have a boyfriend.”

“A what, now?” Natasha asks, failing to hide a smirk.

Your face falls into a serious pout. “You heard me, smartass. A boyfriend.”

“Oh.” the room says collectively.

“A boyfriend that lives with me.”

“Oh.” Interest colors their voices.

You’re ready for the couch to consume you as you inform them, “A boyfriend that I’m, apparently, very much in love with.”

“So,” Pepper clears her throat. “Where is this dashing man that’s swept our girl off her feet?”

“Dunno, but he needs to show up before tomorrow.”

There’s a sharp rap on your door that makes you jump and nearly spill your wine. You struggle to get up; it feels like the couch is aiding in trying to swallow you whole.

Nat looks around the group. “Who the hell is knocking? We’re all here. It’s girls’ night, right?”

Everyone else looks around in comedic confusion. You scoff at your friends and smile affectionately as you finally free yourself from your couch. You make your way around the sectional before unlocking your door. You pull the handle up a bit before yanking it open.

“Steve!”

“Hey, neighbor!” he greets warmly.

There’s a dramatic gasp behind you. “Oh, my god! Steve can be your boyfriend!”

Awkward silence filled the room. Steve’s eyes went wide as you felt an embarrassed blush warm your face.

“Steve can be her what?” Steve asks, voice suddenly high and squeaky.

“Yeah! This is perfect!”

Natasha vaults over the couch, grabs her friend, and pulls him in from the hallway before closing your front door with her hip. His eyes are still wide, brows pinched in confusion, mouth flapping in unformed questions, looking to you for answers. You press your lips into a line, reaching out for his arm as you address the room, “We’re not dragging Steve into this, you guys.”

“But he’s perfect!” Wanda objects.

“You already know each other.” Pepper says levelled, like he should have been the only clear choice. “You’re already comfortable with each other.”

“He’s–he’s my best friend! Of course we’re comfortable–”

Steve finally swallows the lump in his throat and asks, “Why do you need a boyfriend?”

“Her sister’s coming for Christmas.” Maria says.

“Can I tell him what’s happening? Please?” Exasperated, you grab Steve’s arm and pull him to your room in a desperate attempt at privacy. You knew the girls were going to be listening outside your door. “I’m sorry about this,” you start, leaning against your door while Steve settles in your chair at your desk. “You don’t have to get into this at all.”

“How is your sister connected? Why do you need a boyfriend if she’s coming over?” Steve sounds…nervous? You can’t process his reaction, you’re busy trying to keep your anxiety and embarrassment under control.

Your head falls back against the door with a dull thud. “After Scott and I broke up, she tried to set me up with everyone in her contacts list.” You explain, deliberately not looking at Steve. “It was easier to lie to her and tell her I met someone than to go on another awful date.”

He looks up at you, eyes bright. “So, when you went on all those dates, that was your sister setting you up?”

You nodded, finally having enough courage to look at Steve. He’s smiling, almost to himself. “But, listen. You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll just tell my sister that my boyfriend is on a work trip or something–”

“I’ll do it,” he says softly but surely, “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

“You will?” The whole world has been lifted off your shoulders.

Steve stands, smiling, ready to hug you and calm your nerves. What Steve wasn’t ready for, was your choked squeal. He also wasn’t anticipating you to run and jump into his arms in your elation. He catches you easily, laughing, albeit somewhat nervously, and holds you tightly to his chest.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Steven Grant,” you say, releasing him from your attack hug, moving your hands to cup his cheeks. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you big time. Whatever you need. I got you.”

Steve totters back to his apartment, full of conflicting thoughts like I’m the luckiest guy in the world and what the fuck have I gotten myself into?

He opens the door, finding Bucky in the same place he left him: less than a foot away from the television, screaming into his headset at the lack of respect his teammates were showing. “Fuck you, Wilson! You pull that shit again, I’m not helping you respawn!”

“Losing again, Buck?”

“It’s Wilson’s fault!” Amidst the gunshots, Steve vaguely heard Sam’s reply over Bucky’s headset. “No, screw you, dude, you know this loss is on you!”

Steve ignores his friend and heads to the kitchen in search of a snack, or something. He’s not quite sure what he wants. He just needs to do something. He opens the fridge and stares unseeing at the contents, replaying the conversation he just had with you. He was going to be living with you for the next couple of days. Not that he practically wasn’t already. Steve was nearly always over at your place when neither of you had work or class…

But this was so much more. He was facading as your boyfriend. He’d get to see what it was like to finally hold you that way, to kiss you, to look at you without wondering if his eyes were going to combust into hearts and lead you to the realization that he’s been in love with you for so long. He was so excited to let his real feelings out, but so nervous. What if this opened a can of worms? What if–

“Dude, I’m making you pay for the whole electric bill this month if you keep that fridge open!” Bucky scolds, closing the refrigerator door and effectively snapping Steve out of his trance.

“Shit, sorry.”

“What’s gotten into you? I was callin’ you; do you want to play COD?”

“Uh,” Steve rubs the back of his head, feels the heat of his blush creeping up his neck, “I can’t. I’ve gotta take some of my stuff to Y/N’s. I’m staying over there for a couple of days.” He sidesteps his best friend, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether. Steve pushes into his bedroom when Bucky finally processes his words.

“Hold on. Did you tell her?” he asks, running into Steve’s room, eyes bright and excited. “You sly dog, you finally did it! What did she say?”

Steve smiles and scoffs at his best friend. “She wants me to be her fake boyfriend and stay over for the next couple of days while her sister’s here.”

Steve laughed as he watched Bucky try to process the situation. He shakes his head, brows furrowed in complete confusion. “Pal, I’m gonna need you to explain what the fuck you just said.”

“Y/N’s sister is coming to visit for a few days. She told her sister that she had a boyfriend that’s living with her.”

“So, you’re the boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah. I gotta take some clothes over there…probably some stuff, too. Ya know, make it look like I live there.” Steve disappeared into his closet in search of a dufflebag.

“Steve,” Bucky calls, biting his lip and running a hand over his jaw. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Steve reappears, stack of clothes in one hand, duffle in the other. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’m just worried about you. I know how you feel about this girl, and I don’t want you gettin’ hurt just ‘cause she asked you to play pretend.”

Steve reaches out and grasps Bucky’s shoulder. “I appreciate the concern, Buck, but everything’s gonna be fine. Her sister’s only here until the day after Christmas. I can handle this.”

Bucky smiles and pats Steve’s shoulder affectionately. “You better take some of your paintings to hang on the walls.”

Steve’s eyes widen with realization. “I should take my kit over there, too.” He mutters to himself.

Bucky watches his best friend flit around the room, gathering clothes and art supplies, smiling like he’s bursting with excitement and anticipation. While Steve is distracted, Bucky pulls out his phone and pulls up his text thread with Natasha. Tell me what you know about this fake dating situation.

[Part 2]

Ko-Fi 

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[writingwithadinosaur]

“Fireproof” - Part 3

“Fireproof” - Part 3

( Part 1 / Part 2 )

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,700

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Minor Injury. I think that’s all. If I miss anything, please let me know!

Summary: After a genetic mutation showed itself about 5 years ago, you became a Kingsman and worked alongside some of the best agents: Your father, Merlin, Roxy, and Eggsy. When you are assigned a mission with Eggsy, things flare up.

Author’s Note: So this is my first Kingsman fic. I had this idea at 2AM when I was working on packing up my stuff for moving. I know it’s a bit out there, but I hope you give it a chance.

Shoutout to @the-witching-hours12-3 for being herself and helping me out! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

It had started with a few light whimpers that Eggsy could barely hear through the doors, but it progressed quickly into crying and screaming. At that point, he grabbed a water bottle that he had nearby for this situation, and barged into your room to help.

When he came in, he saw you curled into a ball, crying and repeating the words “I’m so sorry.” Your once (Y/H/C) locks were now covered in flames that licked and snapped in the air around you. He dropped the water bottle near his feet and he knelt on the edge of your bed. His first task was to get you uncurled and try to get you to wake up.

Getting you to lay out was surprisingly easier than he anticipated. He grabbed your biceps and tried to lightly shake you, hoping that that would be all it took. Merlin was true to his word when he said that your flames wouldn’t hurt anyone but yourself in this type of scenario. The flames would brush against his hands on your arm and he wouldn’t feel anything. But there was no time to dwell on that right now; he needed you to wake up and get you out of whatever hellscape you were painting in your head.

He tightened his grip on your arm and shook you a bit harder.

“(Y/N/N)! Please wake up, sweetheart!”

Eggsy was watching your face with such worry. He knew you were strong, so seeing you crying and looking so broken made his heart ache. It only took another good shake for your eyes to shoot open. Eggsy took his hands off and backed away when he felt a little bit of heat by his leg. Looking back at you, there were two flames taking up your hands.

You shot up and brought your hands to your chest, hunching down over them, trying to smush them out. It worked, but because of your panicked mindset, you weren’t thinking about protecting yourself. So you ended up burning yourself right underneath your collar bone. You let out a painful cry. As you did, your hair slowly faded back to its original (Y/H/C) color, and Eggsy took a step closer.

“No! Stop! I don’t want to hurt you!” You looked at him with blurry eyes and a few tears racing down your cheeks. Eggsy held up his hands and took one more step towards you as he spoke.

“You’re not going to hurt me, luv.” He took another step, but then knelt down to grab the water bottle near your bed. Getting back up slowly, he held it in his hand and waited for you to calm down enough to let him closer.

“Focus on breathin’ first, alright (Y/N/N)?” You nod in response.

You take a minute to stop hyperventilating. Thank god for Roxy’s tips that she engrained in your head a few months ago. Once you start breathing a bit better, you swing your legs over the side of your bed and sit there with your head in your hands. Eggsy knew that you were okay enough for him to get closer now, so he slowly sat next to you on your bed, trying not to startle you. He then took the water bottle he had brought and undid the top. He put a soft hand on your back and rubbed a few small circles.

“That’s it. Good girl, (Y/N/N).” He kept rubbing your back gently until you told him otherwise. As he was doing that, you spoke.

“I’m sorry, Eggsy. You shouldn’t have had to--” your voice was just a tad raspy from the screaming and crying of your nightmare.

“No. Do not start that shit. You have nothin’ to apologize for. Merlin told me what to do if somethin’ like this happened while he was gone. And I care about you too much to just sit by if this stuff is happenin’. Now, drink some of this while I go get a first aid kit for those burns, yeah?”

You just sat there and nodded. Taking the bottle from Eggsy, your hands were shaking, making it difficult to hold it up to your mouth. But you did and ended up drinking about half of the bottle by the time Eggsy came back with the medical kit. He sat down on your bed again and turned to face you as he opened the kit and got the supplies he would need out of there: a type of ointment and some bandage dressings. You slowly put one of your legs up on the bed and turned to face him. Knowing where your new burns were, you had to take off your top for him to have easy access to them. Thank god you were wearing a sports bra to bed.

As Eggsy took care of the two fist sized burns on your chest, he broke the silence.

“How long have you had this ability with fire?” You honestly had to think about that one. These past years with Kingsman have all kind of blurred together.

“About 5 years. Happened and then I joined Kingsman.” You paused, debating on telling this next part to Eggsy or not. He knew so much about you, and you trusted him; why hold back? “I almost left about 3 years ago.”

“To where?” Eggsy was thankful you didn’t leave, but he couldn’t help but be curious. You leaned over and grabbed a folder that was in your dresser drawer and handing it to him. He looked at you confused and then opened it.

“Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters? Isn’t that where--” You interrupted him before he could start going on about the X-Men.

You met with them as soon as Charles Xavier found you through cerebro and came across the pond to talk to you and your father. You didn’t feel comfortable leaving and moving to the United States by yourself without getting a tighter grip on your mutation or “gift” as Charles has said.

“Are you takin’ a fuckin’ piss?! What made you say no to them?” Eggsy was invested in this conversation, but also went back to finishing up your bandages.

“I still wasn’t doing that great in the mental health department, and knew that if I moved to a different continent away from my family, it would have gone tits up real quick, even with whatever other mutants they have there.” Eggsy secured the last bandage and held one of your hands while flipping through some of the information in the folder.

“Are you still thinkin’ about goin’ there?” He quickly realized that he may have sounded like he wanted you to leave. “Not that I want you to go. It’s just that lookin’ through these papers, I can see how much this could help you. Just learnin’ about that life and knowin’ that you’re not alone, not to mention the possibilities for learning how to control your powers. It could be life changing, (Y/N/N).”

You just looked down at your hand in his, he was watching you to make sure he hadn’t said anything to upset you. You just chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about givin’ Charles a call a couple of times. But then I think about my dad. He would be on edge and probably more of a dickhead to you all if I added that stress on him right now. And I don’t think I’m ready for that big of a move. Plus, what would you do without me?” You gave him a small but true smile, which he gladly returned with that smile of his that made your heart flutter.

“I haven’t got a clue what I would do without your beautiful smile in my life, luv.” You couldn’t help the blush that crept up on your cheeks. There is a bit of a silence while you take another sip of water. Eggsy pats your hand and then releases it, kissing the top of your head as he starts to get up.

“It’s late, (Y/N/N). We should be gettin’ some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning before we--” He stood up, but then you grabbed his hand again, not letting him go any further.

“Can you… Um… Can you stay?” He looked at you with a bit of surprise written on his face. “I mean- You don’t have to. I was just wondering cause I don’t want to have this happen again and wake you up and have you do this all over--” He sat down again and shushed you.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, sweetheart, I’ll stay.” You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and look down shyly. He leans forward and kisses your head again before standing up.

“I don’t know which side you like. So you tell me where to go, yeah?” You nod and then begin getting back under the comforter.

You shimmy onto your usual side of the bed and you felt the mattress dip as Eggsy took the unoccupied space next to you. You laid on your side and Eggsy naturally draped an arm around your middle. As soon as he did, he lifted it up a bit and leaned towards you.

“Is this alright?” You smiled at his tenderness and noded. He then puts his arm back there put doesn’t force you to move closer to him or anything. You actually lean back into him a bit, trying to get him to realize that you actually wanted to be close to him. He got the hint and pulled you closer to him, your back against his comfortably warm chest.You could get lost in this feeling forever. Being this close to him and seeing him really care about you made your love for him grow even though you thought that wasn’t possible.

“Goodnight, Eggsy.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” You could feel him lightly chuckle before responding.

You let out a contented sigh, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep. Before you do fall asleep, you feel Eggsy place a kiss on the back of your head. He must have felt your breathing even out and thought that you were asleep and therefore unable to hear him because what you heard next made your heart swell.

“I promise I will always be there to help you whenever you need me, sweetheart. I love you, (Y/N/N).”

Tags: @the-witching-hours12-3 @theeactress @undersoilxnddirt @juggernaut-jones @eggsyunwinftw @boundtomyfate @grippleback-galaxy

[pappydada]

Whispers to Alice

Whispers to Alice (a work in progress) by Joshua Kaplan

Beginning

--

Keb's Journal, Sept 7, 2022 3:13AM

"It...(i say 'It' rather than 'they' because i don't have the knowledge of where One may end and the Next begin, if beginning and end are even applicable to It/Them)... so It, is like us in that It exists, and moves and reacts, irritable and motivated.  At these very basic points, these requisites that we've assigned to Life, do the similarities between us and It become hazy.  Does It reproduce? Does It feed and shed waste? and if not, how is it compelled to continue existing?  We don't know, hence the confusion regarding beginning and end.

Beginning and ending are temporal concepts, and this entity's relationship with and to Time/Space is as yet undefined. Both reproduction and sustenance might well be unnecessary.  Nature abhors a vacuum, and is also dutifully non-supportive of the unnecessary, so perhaps what constitutes beginning and ending to this/these Being(s) is as different as pudding is to electricity.

Piper suggested that It's beginnings might be traced to the heart of a super massive star, like Andromeda, whose pressure at it's core is so great that electrons become liquid and protons shed their charge, but..."

--

Research Operations Center, Hoboken New Jersey Sept 6, 2022 7:45AM

"...Who knows what other shit is going on inside one of those massive stellar kilns." Dr. Piper Souza, the team's Chemist said.  "I'd look there for Its origin and for more of Them, if there are more."

"Maybe It exists independent of time, like Wheeler's theory that the universe consists of only a single electron that cycles forward and backward through time..." Dr. Henry Kenkeith, Applied Physics, offered, trying to wrap his mind around the concept of a non-material life form.   "..Like weaving a blanket through the boson field."

"I thought that was Feynman's Positron work." quipped Dr. Olsana Marisen, Biologist and Director of Applied Sciences, who was listening intently, contrary to the apparent and compelling distraction of her favorite pseudo-scientific periodical, the Farmer's Almanac.  "I read that paper when i was 17.  I remember because it was right before i got my scholarship to Penn."

"A glorious day, that."  Piper added wistfully, resting her chin on her cupped hands.  "I remember mine like a lost young love, though not Penn, Columbia."

"You guys are gonna make me cry, gettin' all mushy and sentimental like this."  Bond Timmick, Director of IT and team Engineer/Geek emoted greatly, wiping theatrical tears from his tragically masked face.

The room, once thick with the weight of conjecture, lightened with the music of laughter.

"John Wheeler presented the 'single electron' idea to Feynman in a phone call in 1940; or so the story goes."  Keb Snydaar, team Mathematician and Theoretical Physicist said distractedly, staring at the torn and tormented collection of text, diagrams, and doodles in front of him.

Henry Kenkeith grinned widely at Olsana, who replied by promptly sticking out her tongue at him.

"Wheeler, Feynman, Hanna, Barbera...who gives a shit."  Keb said impatiently.  He was working on three hours of sleep and the amphetamines certainly didn't help his mood.  "What we need to know is the 'How?'.  How does this...entity...exist at all?  Is it really intelligent or does it become sentient using it's host's intelligence?  Is it one entity or a collection of individual beings joined by a community mind?   Or maybe how we measure intelligence and sentience is inapplicable with It.  How does it move where it wants to go?  Does it even know where it wants to go?..."

"Easy there Man o'War.  Better take a breath now and again or you might pass out."  Bond wisecracked, creating more laughter.  "What I want to know is how did we get involved with this craziness to begin with?"

"It all started with a woman named Alice."

--

Keb's apartment, Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 9:42PM

"I met a girl."  Keb said to the man seated opposite him at the breakfast table, staring absently at the illustration on his half empty coffee cup.

"That's great, Keb! Coincidentally, my ass cheeks just grew wings.  Now I can fly around and dispense skittles to the world...HAHA!"

Silence.

"Wait...Really?" Umber M. James was startled but continued chuckling.  "I thought you were joking."

"Am I really that backward?" Keb said sullenly back, not knowing how to explain what was troubling him without bearing the full brunt of Umber's ruthless and predatory ribbing.

"Nah, I'm just busting your balls.  She cute?"    

"She's...beautiful." He replied, hesitating momentarily from the involuntary clamping of his abdomen as he pictured her.

"Wow."  Umber sensed in his old friend a tension that seemed out of place, even for Keb, who was one of the most internally tightly wrapped people he had ever known.  "You're not telling me something, Keb."

"She talks to trees, among other things."  Keb said with resignation, still looking at the picture on his mug of the grizzled cowboy lamenting the waste of his money on everything except women and beer.

He didn't drink alcohol, and hadn't so much as held a woman's hand in the 5 years since he learned of his ex-lover's need for romantic diversification.  It was his father's mug.

Umber stared vacantly back, as much from surprise as for comedic affect.

"Okay, so she's a bit off." Umber said after a moment.  "...As long as the trees don't talk back, I guess."

Keb stared at his friend expectantly.

"Wait...They don't talk back, do they?"  Umber's eye's widened in surprise.

"Yes, actually they do."

"Seriously? Is she mentally ill you think?"  Umber asked with sincere concern. "'Cause that's a rough ride. Be advised; If you're considering some kind of emotional investment you should take a little time and see how deep that rabbit hole goes."

"First of all, i didn't say a thing about any relationship, or emotional investment, and I'm not saying that she talks to trees and they talk back in her head." Keb said sharply.  "I'm saying she talks to trees...and they talk back.  I've witnessed it myself."

Silence.

"When was the last time you got more than 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep?" Umber said, finally, only half joking.  "Seriously Keb, how many days? Two? Three?"  

"I'm not psychotic, 'Berz, nor is she."  Keb said flatly, using the nickname he had given his old chum long ago.  "Though I may be a bit addled at all the implications of what she showed me."

"Answer the question then." Umber prodded.  "How long since you've slept? at all, even."

"Been about 40 hours i guess. plus minus."  Keb relented, becoming irritated at the innuendo that his claims were due to insomnia induced hallucination.  Keb was no stranger to hallucination, through chemistry and deprivation both, and this was no such thing.

"See?" Umber said, smugly satisfied at his impromptu diagnosis. "Go smoke a bone, get some shut-eye, and look at the whole thing tomorrow with a fresh set of brain cells."

"You've reached a conclusion with no data," Keb pointed out, then added unnecessarily,  "Spoken like a true student of politics."

Umber James was by far the staunchest and most thoroughly immersed pundits of government and political chaos that Keb knew, or had ever known.  He was Editor-in-chief of a semi-respected liberal periodical called, "The Drop" and ceremoniously attended every meeting that required minutes to be taken and an American flag to be present; at every level of City, State and Federal Government that he could logistically justify.  Keb had for years urged him to "put his ass in a seat that mattered, rather than just pushing moist air with forceful rhetoric," but Umber always laughed it off, stating proudly that, "Not only DID I inhale, but will continue to do so for as long as I see fit, so fuck you and your vote if you don't like it."  They discussed the consideration of having t-shirts made.

"Okay, Keb. I'll play devil's advocate." Umber relented.  "I can understand the whole 'talkin to trees' thing.  Lots of hippy, barefoot, patchouli oil people talk to things; trees, crystals, stale popcorn...but rarely do you meet someone that hears them talk back.  What makes you think that this girl is really hearing anything?"

Keb stared Umber in the eye and stifled an impulse to berate his friend of many years for dismissing Alice so easily. Turning his attention back to his coffee mug, Keb then began his internally prepared monologue on what he mentally referenced as 'the walk in the woods.'  Contrary to normal routine, Keb had not yet documented this interaction with Alice.  Each time he began, something in his mind 'switched on.'  What he attempted to review as a slide show of memory became a cascade of living moments; Alice's eyes flashing brilliance and insight, the way she flowed through the green, as if the flora knew she was there and moved to touch her and allow her passage, both.  It was as if Keb was an alien entity in the woods, and Alice was the wood herself.

Keb knew with complete certainty that what he had experienced was devoid of trickery or manipulation, and was compelled by the thought that Einstein, Faraday, Maxwell, and Newton must never themselves have been witness to such sorcery, else our collective understanding of the mechanics of the physical world might be far different than what we have come to accept today.  

"We were walking in the woods..." Keb began, seeing the images in his mind as he was related them,  again seeing the sunlight beam through the natural canopy of oak onto her golden hair, tied back in a wide braid, and capturing her profile in the stark contrasts of sun and shadow, and for a moment he was again in those woods, and again held breathless by her shy radiance.  

"Yeah?...And?... You still with me there stud?"  Umber said, noticing his friend drift momentarily.

"...Hmm?  Oh, sorry..."  Keb said, and continued.  "Alice had been explaining how she was able to communicate with the Earth, that she could hear voices in the breeze as it touches the leaves..."

"Okay, wait," Umber interrupted.  "start from the beginning.  i want to hear the whole thing.  Were you holding hands?  Did you guys just have sex in the bushes?"

Umber was fond of stories, and fancied himself a potent weaver of lore, so it was no surprise to Keb that he wanted the whole story, nor was he taken aback at the provocative embellishment.

"We weren't on a date, so no, we weren't holding hands nor had we been physically intimate in any fashion." Keb said, fully aware that Umber was lightly prodding him just for fun, but wanted to respond anyway.  "We were on our way to perform a simple experiment, or i should say, i was.  she didn't require any evidence to satisfy what she already knew."

"But she played along?"  Umber lilted.  "she's a sport.  probably great in the...tree house?  HAHA!  sorry. go on."

"She had her own reasons for accompanying me and submitting herself to the study."

"...And they were?"

"She said she wasn't ready to tell me yet." Keb said, deflated at the recollection, feeling some level of failure at not having a simple answer to an important question.  "but she said she would later."

"Oh yeah!"  Umber shouted.  "If that's not a troll for a second date i don't know what is!"

***

Alice; The Dream

--

She loved the dream.

It wasn't the same each time, but everything about it was in almost every way.

In the beginning of the dream, she is always in a meadow, kneeling.  sometimes over a dandelion, usually; sometimes a cluster of clover, and sometimes even, a little frog that looked like it was made of water.

The first of the dreams was the best, when she met her Aua, Ga.  She was 4 years old, and remembers it as if happened yesterday.

--

she hears a giggle, far away...too far really to be heard, a detail she'll remember when she gets older, but now, it is just different.

She looks up, toward the laughter, and it is so bright that she has to shield her eyes with her flattened hand.  In the distance, over a rolling hill of a thousand different shades of green and brown she thinks she sees another child in motion.  It looks like it's running in circles around a tree, but the figure is blurry, though the tree is clear.  As her eyes begin to adjust to the brilliant sunlight, the image becomes clearer.  It IS a child, naked, with long orange hair past it's buttocks, and it is dancing and skipping, spinning and laughing, so happy and free.

for a moment she is envious of the dancing child, then realizes that she can run and dance too...so she does.  she runs and runs, feeling the wind and her own motion toss her hair and it makes her neck tingle.  she watches her bare feet grasp the moist green with each stride, and she tries to quicken her pace...faster, she has to go even faster...like a bird flying, skimming over the ocean, over the trees.

then, suddenly she is airborne, her legs lifting beneath her as her body slowly arches forward in a graceful dive...she sees bright blue flashing past her, and green and billowing sunlight...and then the flash of white as her face impacts the ground, churning up bits of dirt and wet grass with her chin.  

"Ohhhh...."

Alice isn't sure what happened.  she was running so fast that she started to fly, like a bird, then fell, but she isn't sure if it hurt.  It should hurt.  "...And what was that sound?"  she thinks.  "Did i make that sound?"

"Ohhhhaaaahhhh...."

She hears it again.   this time she's pretty sure that it didn't come out of her.

she blinks once into the sweet smelling grass and dirt, and turns over.

"Owwww...?"

Kneeling over her, looking down into her face is another little girl, maybe even the same age as Alice, with blazing red hair so long that it was draping across Alice's face, neck and shoulders, and she looked like she was about to cry.

"No ow."  Alice said to her, momentarily distracted by this little girl's own distress and immediately understanding her question.  Had the little girl even moved her mouth, though?  Alice was confused.

The little girl with the long hair brushed her mantle of rust and pumpkin out of Alice's face and abruptly thrust her own face to where their noses were almost touching, and gazed deeply into Alice's gray-green eyes with eye's like a sea of molten gold, her brow furrowed.

In those eyes Alice saw...everything.

The little girl's frown suddenly became a beaming smile.  Alice couldn't even see her mouth since she was so close, but her eyes told the whole story.  This was her sister, Alice knew now.  Her very own best friend to play with and run and dance and giggle and be free.  and all she had to do was dream.

Alice wants to be that happy in real life, and to dance and skip and laugh, but it is hard to be happy.  That's why the dream is so good, because Alice is really happy there, always.  She is never hungry, and her beautiful friend is always there to hug her and put flowers in her hair and show her new things in the meadow.  She is never alone there, and she never wants to be.  She always wants to be alone in real life, because people hurt her.  They don't always mean to, but it is the same hurt either way.  In the meadow of her dream, Alice is safe.

Alice stares at her sister, not really thinking anything but taking all of her in;  Her bright red hair and milk pale skin, her golden eyes that swirled and glowed and reflected everything good and nice in the world, her joyous smile and the way she folded her feet under her as she kneeled.  Alice hadn't noticed it before, but she thought she could see tiny little sparkles of silver flashing all around the little girl's body, and when she smiled there were lots more sparkles.

Alice knew this little girl was special, and more, that she loved Alice.  she knew this just from looking into those glorious, gleaming eyes.  There were no words to convey this, nor were any necessary.  it was communicated like a song of emotion playing through her soul in waves.  and Alice knew that she loved her back, just as much.

The two girls sat looking at each other for only a moment, until Alice was swept up by a gust of wind with flaming red hair, both of her hands held in the other's, and together ran just as fast as they could.  past the mighty and potent tree that the pale, golden girl had been in orbit around, and over the little swaying hill through a patch of purple and blue flowers, and to a little brook, where they both squatted side by side and watched tadpoles skitter to and fro just beneath the surface.

"What's your name?"  Alice asked, as she turned her attention from the play of life in the creek to the golden eyed girl.

The other turned to Alice and looked confused.

"My name's Alice, after my grammy.  She makes really good toast."

The little girl tilted her head to the side, and slowly seemed to realize what Alice wanted to know.

"Aaaaoooowwwwaaaaaa..."  She said, and gestured with her arms, sweeping outward and looking from side to side.

Alice heard her clearly, and even though the little girl was only inches from her, her voice sounded distant...funny...and Alice was, for the second time, unsure if she saw her mouth move when she spoke.

"Your name is Awwa?  That's a pretty name."

The little girl frowned slightly and shook her head from side to side, and said again, with the same sweeping arm movement, "Aaaaooowwwaaaaa..."

Then she put her hands to her chest and said, "Ga."  and she beamed at Alice and grabbed a handful of water and splashed it on Alice's hands, then stood up and ran back toward the big tree, giggling and looking playfully over her shoulder at Alice as she ran.  Alice immediately stood up and ran to catch her mischievous friend.

--

With each subsequent dream Alice had of the little girl in the meadow, her friend and sister changed slightly.  her voice became less drawn out, clearer and easier to understand, and her mouth slowly began to sync with her speech.  Alice had been correct to note that the little girl's mouth did not move as she spoke in the beginning; she would open it as if attempting to emulate how Alice looked when she talked, but it was easy to see that the sounds Alice was hearing were not being created by the little girl's mouth.

Alice came to realize that the little girl spoke with her heart, not her mouth, if such a thing were possible.  She also now knew that the little girl's name was Ga, and that Aua was whatever Ga was, but in everything in the meadow, even the light.

As Alice grew older, so too did her dream friend, and the dreams became less and less frequent.  This troubled Alice greatly at first, but it quickly became apparent that Ga was with her even when she was awake, and the older they both got, the better the communication between them became when Alice wasn't asleep and dreaming.

Ga had told her once to never tell anyone about them, about their friendship and sisterhood.  She said people wouldn't understand, but that someday Alice would meet people that would make everyone understand.

"How will i know, Ga?"  She asked as they both lay together in the meadow and together manipulated low flying cumulous clouds.

"The little frog will lead you, my love."  Ga said.  "Together we'll be, so no worries.  i like your horse cloud..."

***

Keb's Journal Aug 21, 2022 12:02AM

I am a scientist.  a professional nerd.  this is part of my problem, this conundrum. What i witnessed today was nothing short of fantastic and i have no basis to substantiate or explain it.  Add to that this absurd, internal sounding of my emotions...It is among the most substantial impulses i have ever felt, this motivation to help Alice.  I have tried to convince myself that my passion and interest is founded only in professional purpose and a need to know, but I'd be a fool or a liar to deny that it is on a far more personal level than what any psychological profile or equation can rationalize.

This amazing woman, so unique and sensitive to the world around her, has perhaps opened a door between accepted universal mechanics and something else...I don't know what to call it...Psychic phenomena? Magic? How else should i reference it?  Without a grounded theory and some semblance of a mathematical argument it certainly looks like sorcery, but then again, so would an internal combustion engine look to a primitive.  Really, i think a coffee maker, or even a glow stick would accomplish same, probably, though with far less noise.

---

Keb's apartment, Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 9:57PM

Keb had great admiration and respect for his old friend Umber, who everyone close called 'Berz.   He was smart, funny and could be trusted with most anything, with the simple exception of your girlfriend.  Berz was among the most proficient practitioners in the art of wooing that Keb knew, and had always attributed his success with the women folk to confidence.  "it's all in the self-image, my friend."  he'd say.  "if you like you, they'll like you, too."

Keb argued that it was easy for his friend to be confident when local legend spoke in hushed tones of the storied endowment of one Umber M. James, nicknamed by his many followers; The Gourd. Keb had no such farmer's market appeal, and other than some level of envy, and minor annoyance at his flirting with his dates when they were younger, he had never been bothered by Umber's predilection toward carnal behavior or his conquests.  however, Keb maintained that it was difficult to nurture a serious conversation when every utterance was fodder for his factory of innuendo and blue commentary.

"There was never a first date, so i doubt in totality that she was leading me with her conversation."  Keb explained unnecessarily.  "Can i just tell this story without your input?"

"HAHA!"  Umber laughed.  "Sure. still, i can hear it in your voice.  You like her. What's her name, by the way?"

"Alice. her name's Alice."  Keb said hesitantly, his mind filling with imminent Lewis Carroll parallels.

"That's kind of a coincidence. i just mentioned the rabbit hole thing."  Umber said, as expected, but he wasn't laughing.

"True enough."

"Is she blond?  Blue dress?  and how old is she?  if you tell me she's 15 I'm gonna have to kick your ass."

"she is.  Blond, i mean...Unless you're crudely referring to her intellectual capacity, in which case, no, she is decidedly un-blond.  Ah, i get it.  Another 'Through the Looking Glass' comment. "  Keb continued.  "and no, she's not 15.  she's in her mid 20s, i believe."

"Okay, so here's Alice, all beautiful and smart and blond and crazy, spending her time talking fragrant oils and decorating to the local flora and fauna,"  Umber quipped.  "...and here's you, lab rat and scribbler of Newtonian hieroglyphics who never leaves his house except to go to the lab.  How did you two hook up? First guess is it's lab related."

So Keb told his story of meeting Alice, from the beginning.  He remembered it so vividly, it seems like it must have happened a thousand times.

"I was at the lab eating my lunch and reading an old copy of Analog that Kenkeith gave me, a reprinted Simak story,"  Keb orated, as if reading a script. '...and i remember being excited about it.  Simak wove tales of future intrigue before quantum theory and atomic application, and he influenced some of the greatest science fiction contributors in the world; Asimov, Heinlein, Campbell, really everybody.  i love the old pulp writers and their stories..."

"Keb, is that actually pertinent?"  Umber interrupted.  "I don't really care about your comic collection.  I wanna hear about the girl."

"Not comic, pulp."  Keb corrected, and continued.  "I was actually somewhat annoyed when i heard the knock on the lunchroom door.  no one else was there so i would have to either stop reading, get up, answer the door, and politely tell this intruder that the person or persons they hoped to locate were nowhere on these premises; or be a prick and ignore them.  i opted to be less prick and more annoyed, so I got up and answered the door.

"when i opened the door, i saw this young woman, dressed all in black, with her hand thrust out, and I just stared at her.  i felt like i was in stasis."  

"In stasis?  Why?"  Umber asked, incredulous.  "Holy crap, she's a woman, not a werewolf.  I will never understand your fear of women."

"Why?  I don't really know."  Keb lied.  "She just said 'hi' and i froze."  

Keb continued with his story, careful not to give away too much in the telling.  He indicated that Alice was clearly anxious, and even so kept smiling and never once betrayed her desire to flee.

Research Operations Center Hoboken New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 11:23AM

"I'm Alice.  Alice Leganno.  I have an interview here at 11:30 with Dr. Marisen?"

Keb had stared at her standard offering of formal greeting, and in the distant fog of his awareness heard an echo of reality which told him to shake her hand, and as he slowly did, careful not to squeeze too hard, he heard it.  

the voice.  an auditory hallucination.  a symptom of schizophrenia.

it wasn't so much a sound as it was an awareness, Keb told himself, not wanting to accept the possibility of mental illness.  He compared it to knowing from the breeze and smell of the air that it's going to rain.  

"Dr...Mari..."  Keb fumbled, the message in his mind ringing, and tried to get a grip on the here and now.  "Okay, you're here to see Olsa.  I'll show you to her office."

Keb guided Alice with whatever level of faux detachment he could muster, including a smile to replace what she must have compared with Novocain mouth, and arrived at Dr. Marisen's office, tapping lightly before cracking the door and peeking in.

"Your 11:30 is here, Olsa." He said, mind whirling.

"Perfect!" Olsana shouted enthusiastically, her arms in the air.  "Don't just stand there gawking, show her in, goofy!"

Dr. Olsana Marisen was nothing if not passionate.  Everything she did she did with flair and high energy.  She laughed loud, loved hard, and lived life thoroughly.  she was one of Keb's favorite people and he considered himself lucky to be able to work with her.  But even her volume and force could not push from his mind what he had heard and felt just moments before, though it felt like he had been feeling it forever.

"you can go in, Alice."  Keb said, looking into her gray, green, and golden eyes that moved like wood smoke.  "don't let her knock you over with her bluster."

"Thank you, Keb."  She smiled and made her way into Marisen's office, and closed the door behind her.

As he walked back to the lunchroom, Keb had completely forgotten about the fantasy pulp, the brine and soy lunch, and pretty much everything else.  all he could wrap his mind around were those words that he had heard, or felt, or hallucinated so strongly as he had taken Alice's hand in greeting...

"She is here for me."  

It was only after he sat down at his desk and leafed through several pages of his journal did he realize that he had never told her his name.

--

Keb's Apartment Hillside New Jersey Aug 24, 2022 10:23PM

"Okay, so you hear this voice say 'she is here for me'..." Umber said, wide eyed. "And you think... what?  that she's your soul mate or some such?  Dude, that is some corny shit."

"I don't know what to think, frankly."  Keb said sullenly.  "Hearing voices is a symptom of schizophrenia.  That seems more likely, maybe from sleep deprivation."

"Or maybe you're just fucking nuts."  Umber stated flatly.  "Doesn't make you a bad person."

"Well, we've both known for a long time that I'm nuts, but that's REALLY nuts."  Keb said.  "There is the unrelated detail of her knowing my name.  That's been puzzling me."

"Fact that this Alice chick knew your name can be explained any of a dozen ways; name tag, placard on desk, simple previous inquiry..."

"I figured as much, " Keb interrupted.  "So i asked her about it later, after Olsa introduced us formally."

"What'd she say?  That she's been stalking you for your man parts?"

"Yup. And that i should poison your next meal with a live culture of dysentery."

Umber laughed, though Keb was only half joking.

"So what happens next?  Olsa invites you in for a quick menage and friendly hand of canasta or what?"  Umber joked.

"I just went back to the lab and sat there with my head in my hands."  Keb said, not remembering those next moments or days very clearly.  "minutes, hours, days later...I don't know, I wasn't thinking clearly, I heard Olsa's door open and them exchange niceties as Alice left, but I didn't see her again for several days.  I went in to talk to Olsa to see how the job interview went, or that's what I thought at the time..."

***

Alice; (cont.)

The meadow was as ever, warm deep green and moist brown, with flashes of reds and purples, streaks of yellows and orange dotting the expanse.  Today though was overcast, not the distant wash of blue that normally greeted Alice.  Today, the sky was layers of wandering cool grays, with drapes of sunlight peeling through, illuminating clusters of mist and rain which embraced the dream place within the little girl's sleeping mind.

Together on the little hill swell by the big tree, little Alice, now 8, had questions for the old woman with the flowing silver hair lying next to her, both their face's glowing moisture as they looked to the sky.

"Ga?"  Alice said quietly, breaking a long silence.

"Yes, my love?"

"Are you God?"

"I don't know.  What is God?" The old woman asked sincerely after a moment, turning her head toward her friend/sister/daughter.

"You don't know what God is?"  Alice said incredulously.  "That's crazy!  God is the guy that made the universe n animals n stuff."

"Hmm...well then, first, I'm not a guy, and second, i help the universe n animals n stuff but i didn't make the universe n animals n stuff,  so i don't think I'm the God."

"But you talk to everything and can make stuff happen and even bugs listen to you, an you change from a little girl to a old lady, like now...and your name even sounds like God...Ga---Aaadd...see?"

Ga appeared to Alice sometimes as the bouncing ball of energy with flaming red hair past her buttocks, and other times as the old woman, whose sparkling silver hair seemed to reach throughout the entire meadow, weaving and wending itself into the ground like roots made of water. Now, because little Alice needed her friend-mother, not her friend-sister, this was how Ga appeared.  Alice was not aware yet that it was all her own need that called on Ga in her different forms, at least that was the now.  As Alice grew and learned, Ga would begin to move to other needs through Alice, those of the world...this was as much due to Alice's own desire to heal a sick world as it was Ga's task to care for that which she called her other home; Earth.

"Ga is short for Gaia, my love, not Gaaaaaddd."  Ga made a funny face as she imitated her friend-daughter, which made Alice giggle.

"Gaia?  Really?  That's so pretty!  Why didn't you tell me before? Meany."  Alice mock frowned and crossed her arms dramatically.

"You gave me that name yourself little flower, when you were a someone else.  I thought you already knew."

"When i was a someone else?"  Alice questioned intently, as she sat up and leaned on her elbow.  "I don't get it."

"You have been a someone else many many times, my love."  Ga explained.  "When your body can't hold you anymore you dance with me into another.  It is the saddest most beautiful dance."

To Ga, everything was a dance;  Life, experience, motion...everything.  Aua were comprised of light and moved by using the photo-force to attach to passing photons, so they were in a state of constant motion, redirection and speed that no human mind might comprehend.  It was truly the grandest of dances.

The dance of a complex soul reincarnating to another was not only joined by the Auan symbiote, it was engineered by it.

"Wow.  why is it sad though?"  Alice asked, imagining herself, her real self, flying through the air holding Ga's hand as they swirled and laughed into another body, like hurtling down a water-slide into a pristine pool of transparent blue.

"...Because I have to say goodbye to a you..."  Ga said, almost inaudibly, as she closed her eyes to allow the salty pools to drain down her cheeks with the misty rain.

Though little Alice was 8 years old in Earth years, to Gaia, her human host had just been reborn, and she remembered every detail of her previous incarnation and the love she had lost when she died.  It had been a glorious dance.

"Are you crying, Ga?"  Alice had never seen her friend-sister-mother ever cry before.  She had never even seen her sad.  "Now I'm sad, too.  you don't have to cry, Ga, I'm right here."

Alice wrapped her arms around Ga's midsection and rested her head on her chest.

"I see you, My Love."  Ga put her hand to Alice's droplet pocked golden hair and ran a finger through it.  "I cry joy and sadness.  my joy is a new you and a new dance, my sadness is the goodbye and our old dance.  So you see, it's both.  all things in the dance are both sadness and joy."

"All things?"  Alice asked, propping her head up with her chin on Ga's midsection and looking into her gleaming, golden eyes.

"All."

"I love to dance."  Alice rested her head back on it's side and closed her eyes.

"I know you do, my love, and yours is my greatest joy."

***

Keb knew Olsana as well as anyone he had ever worked with.  They were not the closest friends, but neither were they distant associates.   They had met years before as students at a physics seminar and had impressed each other with their common politics, intellect, and humor, but their strongest bond was that they both wanted to save the world.  Keb through physics and mathematics, and Olsana as a healer, ultimately.  She was a medical doctor and a tenured biology professor, as well as being a published author, and occasionally even a guest on some major market morning talk shows which required intelligent remittance of the science of healing.   Her daily toils now included pursuing her passions as the division head of the Hoboken facility of Research Operations Center, or ROC.  

It was Olsana who was responsible for Keb's employment at ROC.  There had been an opening in the lab for a number cruncher, and though Keb wasn't the big boss' first choice, Olsana had convinced him by showing the CEO, Edge Silver, a paper Keb wrote called 'Applied Temporal Mechanics and the Resolution of Irrational Numbers.'  The work itself hadn't been given much credit in general academic circles but there was something to it that was different, Olsana thought, something magic.  She felt strongly enough about it that she was willing to put her reputation on the line.  Additionally, she felt sorry for Keb.

--

Research Operations Center Newark, New Jersey April 3, 2004 3:26PM

"I know he's an oddball, Edgar..."  Olsana urged

"Edge, please.  My mother calls me Edgar."  Her boss reminded her, looking at his notes on Keb Snydaar.  "and Oddball is a nice way of saying he's mentally ill.  He has been remitted to institutions twice.  I'm assuming you are aware of this."

Olsana got up from her seat and stood over Dr. Silver's sterile brushed steel platform he used as a desk and leaned toward him, so as to add impact to her next carefully chosen words.

"He's a fucking genius."

Once Edgar George Silverman, now Edge Silver, Chief Executive/Operations Officer of Research Operations Center, liked smart people very much.  To he, all people were tools, and the best tools were usually worth the extra cost.

"Okay, Dr. Marisen, i will have Ms. Silverman call him in for an interview..."

"You mean your daughter?"  Olsana relaxed her posture at the agreeable resolution.

"Yes, my daughter, my secretary, now please go away before you decide to chastise me for nepotism."

Dr. Silver pressed a button on his intercom.

"Ms. Silverman?"

"Yes Daddy?"

Dr. Silver sighed and closed his eyes in slight exasperation.

"Ms. Silverman, please call Dr. Snydaar in for an interview.  Dr. Marisen will give you the number as she's leaving.  Now."  Edge Silver glared at Olsana Marisen as his subordinate prepared herself to leave.  She was smiling.

--

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 12:47PM

The walk back to Dr. Marisen's office wasn't a long one, but today it seemed like a journey.  Keb waited 15 minutes after hearing Alice leave before getting up from his chair to make way to question his friend and colleague about the meeting between the two.  He didn't want to appear anxious, and also didn't know what would he say to Olsana to mask his true motivation.  "Should I admit to having auditory hallucinations?"  He thought.  "Maybe that some spiritual messenger is speaking to me about this young girl?  she'll tell me to go home and sleep for 3 days and not come back until i wasn't seeing floating mandalas in my peripheral vision."  Olsana and Keb had discussed his pattern of deprivation on more than a few occasions, She having a similar difficulty in her own personal life; that being insomnia.  

The light tapping on Olsana Marisen's door echoed in Keb's head, and for a moment he forgot that it was he that was knocking.  

"Come in, damn it!"  The long time occupant of the largest office in the facility screamed through the closed, smoked glass door, loud enough to make everyone in the outer areas and adjoining small lab freeze.

"Is the volume really necessary, Olsa?"  Keb said, slightly annoyed, placing his index finger in his ear as he opened her door.

"I yelled three times for you to come in, deaf goofball."  Olsana said loudly, with some level of exasperation.  "Each time louder than the last, while you stood there like a zombie.  I swear, i think you're drooling."  

Keb stared at Olsana distantly.

"What is wrong with you today, Keb?  You really seem out of it all of a sudden."  Olsana said, concern replacing her edge of frustration.  "Are you coming down with something?  If so, you need to go home before you get us all sick."

"No. Not sick."  He said in the doorway.  

Upon entering Keb sat down on the large antique chair, as always, that Olsana Marisen kept toward the side of her voluminous desk. Her workspace was decorated with a menagerie of distractions; there was what appeared to be an entire set of miniature cartoon sculptures holding placards touting the strengths of her gender, which was one of her many rallying calls, and there were little plastic goats of every shape, size, and construction standing sentry on staggered piles of paper, texts and notebooks, as if they were part of a mountainous diorama.

However, the most telling and potent aspect of Olsana Marisen's immediate periphery were the pictures of men.  They were everywhere.  Small pictures, large pictures, black men, brown men, white men, golden men,; the only common denominator that any observer might notice was that they were all either naked or half-naked.  Keb mostly just ignored the pictures, having grown inured to Olsana's wanton and overt display's of man worship, and only occasionally commented on any new material that she had decided to add to her shrine.

"Aren't you concerned with sexual harassment issues?" He had asked her once, years ago.

"Should i be?  does any of this stuff really offend you?"  She had said, with serious demeanor.  "Doesn't seem to bother anyone else or I'd take it down. Just say the word and I'll pack up my fella's, though i suspect that you're just a little jealous of mister January...Officer abs.  ooooh yummy!"

"No, it doesn't bother me a bit,"  Keb had chuckled.  "But i can't help thinking that you're opening yourself up to some misery somewhere along the line."

"I appreciate your concern, Dr. Prudenchaste, but i hide all my guys whenever an outsider enters my lair."  she had said happily, and that had ended the conversation then and forever more.  To know and love Olsana was to know and accept that part of her.

Sitting in the cozy, ornately quilted chair, Keb lost himself in it's soft embrace, it's well-worn cushions and comforting smell of musty, decades old upholstery.   Breathing deeply the reminder of times past at family reunions, Keb realized that he was again in the midst of a silent reverie, which to many he indulged in too frequently, and remembered suddenly why he came in to see Olsana.

"I didn't know you were looking for help."  Keb said nonchalantly, looking at his nail-bitten fingers.  He had decided that an indirect tact would be the path of least humiliation.

"I'm not."  Olsana said.  "If you're talking about the young lady that just left, Alice, she was referred to me by a friend."

"Medical consult?"  Keb asked, now sympathetically concerned with the welfare of a woman he didn't even know.

"In a way....wait a sec."  Olsana said, grinning widely, and she slapped her palm to the desk top, making several little goats tumble from their paper perches.  "You like her.  Dirty old man."

Keb just stared at Olsana, not even able to muster the energy necessary to show indignation.

"That's okay, Keb.  happens to the best of us."  She said, smiling at her friend and colleague.

"Implying that I am not among the best of us?"  He said, weakly, thinking his best defense here would have to be a change of direction.

"You know what i mean, goofy.  Don't try to change the subject."

One of Keb's great frustrations in life was a general disability to hide his feelings, a natural weakness exacerbated by an annoying and substantial mood disorder.  "You wear your heart on your sleeve."  His father would tell him, trying to coach his difficult son through times of upheaval.  "People see right through you.  It's a good thing you have a conscience or we'd all be in trouble."

"Yea, she's pretty." Keb said reluctantly, knowing the hopelessness of trying to maintain any subterfuge with someone who knew him well.

"Right."  Olsana smirked.  "She's a Viking Princess! And don't even try to tell me your jaw didn't hit the floor when you saw her.  You can't fool me.  But anyway, too bad for you, she has a boyfriend."

This didn't surprise Keb but he still could not suppress the sudden sinking feeling, like a ball of ice in his gut.

"What's her story?"  he said, attempting to move quickly past the quick-sand of his emotions.

"Well, funny you should take an interest, because i was going to ask you to come in on this one, anyway."  Olsana said, becoming suddenly serious.

Keb instinctively leaned forward, as Dr. Marisen's voice always dropped several decibels when she was on task, though the soft cushions of the chair didn't make it easy for him.

"Ok..."  Keb said reflexively, as Olsana leaned back in her own custom, ergonomic chair, which looked not unlike a pilot's ejector seat in a modern jet fighter, pressed her finger tips together and shared with him the story of the girl she had offhandedly referred to as their very own Viking Princess, named Alice.

Keb listened intently while Olsana went over the details of Alice's visit; how she had been through a revolving door of councilors, analysts, and psychiatrists, to try and cope with what Olsana referred to as AHSD, or Acute Hyper-Sensitivity Disorder.  He had never heard of it before, but Olsana didn't seem to see it as just another pigeon-holing psychiatric device to further partition gifted people away from the rest of the world, so who was he to doubt the diagnosis.

Eventually, and fortunately for Alice, she met a Psychiatrist named Dr. Shane Michaelson, a brilliant individual who placed patient care and treatment above all else.  Dr. Michaelson was a professional associate of Dr. Marisen, as they frequented parallel academic circles, social and professional, and he had Olsana's utmost respect. The good doctor relayed to Olsana that it had taken him several sessions (a dozen or so, in fact) with Alice to get her to feel comfortable, but they together had managed to navigate her trust issues and were able to proceed toward treatment.

***

Offices of Dr. Shane Michaelson Philadelphia, PA. July 3, 2022 2:12PM

Dr. Michaelson had listened to Alice talk about her childhood and schooling, adolescence and her difficult passage to womanhood, and finally to the present, whereas she revealed to him, at least as much as she wanted him to know, her true reason for seeking help.  Though she had endured a childhood and life which presented any of a host of valid reasons for her anxiety and depression; various abuses, abandonment et al. she noted with assurance, however, the primary source was external...a feeling of impending doom that was going beyond distraction, and it had nothing to do with her own troubled upbringing.  

She also revealed to Dr. Michaelson, as opportunity dictated, that one special secret she had been keeping since the age of 4.  The promise to Ga.

"Don't tell anyone about our bond, My Love."  Ga had asked her, trapping Alice in their innocent bond.  However, Ga had also given her a key to this prison, as all secrets were prisons to Alice.  

"How will I know, Ga?"  

"The little frog will lead you, My Love."

Dr. Michaelson had a tiny crystal frog on his desk.  It was the first thing Alice noticed about his office and ultimately why she allowed herself to open up to him.

When Alice revealed to the doctor the truth, that she felt that the world was talking to her, and that it had always talked to her; through Gaia, and messages in the sound of wind passing through trees, in the presence and behavior of animals or their sign, even in the weather.

"I know what you're thinking."  Alice said to Dr. Michaelson during this, another of their extended sessions.  "That I'm suffering some form of delusion.  Maybe you think I'm bipolar or even schizophrenic, i don't know."

"I didn't say that."  He said, staring at her intently while chewing the end of his pencil.

"What else would you think?  If our positions were reversed that's for sure what i would be thinking."  She said, smiling slightly.  "That bitch has bats in her belfry!  But that's okay.  You can think whatever you please, i don't mind."

Alice then went on to detail to Dr. Michaelson why she felt as she did, referencing specifics of her dreams, the meadow, Gaia and associations in her real life; signs and events and how she had interpreted, acted, and interacted as a result.

On this day that she outlined these things to him, these closely guarded intimacies and personal skeletons, Dr. Michaelson became a different man.  Not because of what Alice had said to him, but because of what she would show him.  Shane Michaelson had been practicing psychiatric medicine for 7 years.  Before that he spent 4 years as an ER Surgeon, and before that, 9 years a resident of Jacob Kurtzberg Memorial Hospital.  In the 20 years he had been immersed in these various aspects of his profession, he had seen and heard just about everything.  or so he thought.

"I know you don't believe me."  Alice said, looking out the window at a crow sitting proudly atop a sparsely populated tree.

"About what?"  the Doctor had said, feigning ignorance.  "I believe everything you tell me."

"You believe that the Earth speaks to me?"  Alice dared him, with eyebrow cocked.

"Well...I believe that you are earnest in your belief."  Dr Michaelson offered diplomatically.  "But, do I believe that what you are experiencing is actually the Earth talking to you? That might take some convincing."

"Okay.  May I open the window?"  Alice asked politely, getting up from the good doctor's tasteful patient couch.

"You're not going to jump because of what i just said, are you?"  he said.  "We're on the first floor."

"No, Doctor." Alice laughed.  "I wouldn't be so selfish as to negatively affect your future livelihood.  Besides, who you do you see more interesting than me, hmm?"

Dr. Michaelson laughed as Alice gracefully moved to the window, and taking a moment to familiarize herself with the locking mechanism, proceeded to release the window from it's brass constraint and lifted the bottom pane, which revealed a light screen on the other side.  Fortunately, it was not permanently secured to the outer window and could be opened in the same manner.  Were it not for this simple detail, she might have been unable to change the doctors stance on her metaphysical sensitivities, and he might have remained as he was; a brilliant, accomplished and ultimately unenlightened man.  

Alice would change the last of these forever.

She hated to show off, it made her feel uncomfortable and vain.  However, some instances required a little something extra; some showmanship.  This was one of those cases.

After opening the Doctor's window and it's adjacent screen, Alice moved to the couch and sat down again, smoothing her long, flowing skirt under her so as to not let it bunch and wrinkle.  She then looked at Dr. Michaelson, smiled softly, placed her hands together on her lap and closed her eyes.

The Doctor said nothing.  He knew her well enough to see that she was preparing to communicate something to him, maybe something distressing, and that these periodic silences were her small retreats to regroup and steady herself.

The brief vacuum of silence lasted only a moment, as a large crow, not coincidentally the one that Alice had been watching a moment earlier, accompanied by a gust of wind from it's large, iridescent ebony wings, flew in the open window and, scattering mail and unmoored post-it notes, landed on Dr. Michaelson's desk.

The bird took a step forward, stared Dr. Michaelson in his eye, cocked it's head sideways, and abruptly took the small crystal sculpture of the little frog in its beak.  The frog had been gifted to Dr. Michaelson by his staff, 4 birthdays past.  he loved it.

The aggressive avian then took a side step back, ruffled it's feathers, and flew out the open window, crystal frog in beak, past a smiling young girl who was watching a silent and jaw agape Dr. Shane Michaelson.

The room was motionless for several seconds.

"Okay... that was crazy."  The Doctor said, finally recovering his senses.  "I...I loved that frog.  Am I to believe that you did that somehow?"

"Well, if I answer 'yes," Alice said thoughtfully,  "...then you would have to either take me at my word, and accept that the Earth Mother, Gaia and I really do communicate, or consider the possibility that i own a trained crow and set this up somehow.  I'm guessing that that's exactly what's going through your head right now."

Alice had impressed Dr. Michaelson many times; with her intelligence, passion for learning, humanity, and humor.  Occasionally she even intimidated him, something few people could accomplish, with only the force of her spirit and goodness.  This was another of those times, whereas she seemed to be looking right at his brain through the eye sockets of his skull.

"Or I suppose you would have to include the possibility of coincidence."  Dr Michaelson said, though he didn't believe that for a second.

"Would you like it back?"  Alice asked, coyly.

"You mean the frog?  um...yes."  He returned cautiously.

Alice again slowly shut her eyes, softly inhaled slow and deep, and placed her hands together on her lap.  and she smiled.

In a second rush of wind and disarray of unmoored papers being jostled about, the crow returned, and also for the second time, landed on Dr. Michaelson's desk.

The crow looked at the tall, dark man sitting at the desk, blinked to clear it's glowing onyx eyes, and dropped a medium sized pine-cone to rest precisely where the crystal frog had been.  It then ruffled indignantly, took two steps in a semi-circle to face Alice, cawed loudly, and flew off through the open window; perhaps to go look at it's new frog sculpture.

Alice laughed harder than Dr. Shane Michaelson had seen before, and maybe even more than the doctor thought her capable of.

"Nice pine cone."  she said, chuckling.

"Where's my frog?"  He said boyishly, staring at the pine cone and fully in a haze of confusion. This was not a state of mind in which Shane Michaelson was often found.

"I asked him nicely to return it, but i guess he likes it and doesn't want to give it back."  Alice smiled and sighed.  "However, in crow-land apparently, that is a mighty fine pine cone and a fair trade."

That was all the convincing Dr. Michaelson had needed.

The two occupants of the comfortable and very civilized office sat in silence, both listening to their own inner voices.

They jointly determined that day that there would be no standard treatment, drugs, or really anything within the normal confines of accepted Western medicine that might help Alice with her unsettling feelings of the dark and imminent.  Dr. Michaelson was now compelled to accept the possibility that these feelings of Alice's might be more than could be explained through existing prejudices. Terms like 'prophesy' and 'oracle' danced mockingly in his head, pointing fingers at his smug self-assurance and cynicism.

"I need to make a call."  He said, quickly deciding his plan of action.

He would need tests; MRi, CT, maybe even a nuclear WBC scan.  Also, extensive monitoring and cataloging of Alice's abilities would have to be scheduled.  There was only one place that he knew of that had both the resources and the 'out-of-the-box' thinking necessary to take on this project.

Dr. Michaelson picked up the handset of his desk phone, cycled through a list of numerical entries on the small LED display of the base unit and dialed.

"Hello, Olsa? It's Shane.  We need to talk."

<a name=10212017>***</a>

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 12, 2022 1:28PM

Olsana waited to gauge Keb's reaction to what she had told him.  She wasn't sure if she believed it herself, having to suspend her disbelief due to the source of the information, and she was unsure how her colleague might react.

Dr. Shane Michaelson was not one to be taken lightly, surely, and Keb was aware of the psychiatrist's reputation but had no personal knowledge of him whatsoever.

"What do you think?"  Olsana urged, watching him intently.

"The Crow, The Crystal Frog, and The Pinecone."  Keb said absently, staring at his fingers.  "Sounds like CS Lewis.  I think Michaelson is ingesting psilocybin."

"He was serious as a heart attack on the phone, Keb."  Olsana continued.  "He wouldn't call me if he thought this was a normal circumstance.  He knows the kind of work we do here."

"What does he think we can do?"  Keb wondered out loud.  "Sounds like a job for spiritualists, not a think tank."

"Do you think i would just accept what anyone tells me without clarifying the feasibility and dynamics in my own mind?"  Olsana chastised.  "There is no one on the planet whose psychological evaluation I value more than Shane's, and he says there is more to this...to her...than meets the eye.  This is as much about the source of the information as the information itself."

"C'mon, Olsa... you really think she talks to trees?  hmm..."  Keb said, then moments after remembered that he had heard something too, when they first met.  Might they be related?  Keb's mind began to crunch commonalities and possibilities.

"I think that you should talk to Alice.  Devise some simple test so you can see for yourself if her condition warrants our particular mojo."  Olsana smiled.  "If you'd rather I can get someone else to pick this up."

Keb couldn't help but smile himself, knowing Olsana was teasing him with her takeaway.

"I'll do it, of course."  Keb agreed.

"Of course.  I'll have Tammy set up a meeting for you and Alice to get acquainted."  Olsana smiled back, referring to Tammy Silverman, Edge's daughter and company secretary.  "Just let me know when you have some free time and an idea of how you'll test her."

"I already know how to proceed.  It won't be difficult to gauge her claims of tree talking."  Keb said, having devised a simple test in his mind moments after the problem presented itself.  "And Time?  Well, that I have plenty of."

--

Keb's Apartment Hillside, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 7:18AM

On the day of their first scheduled meeting, Keb woke up an hour early, unable to keep his eyes closed.  He only slept 3 hours the night before but still felt energized.  Today he would see Alice again.  He was nervous, certainly, but also intrigued at the prospect of delving into her situation.

"She's a tree talker."  He mused to his reflection while shaving, and let his mind run wild at the applications.  

If she communicates with trees, he thought, then trees must have some level of intelligence, and if so, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that all plant life had intelligence as well.  He then considered the symbiotic relationship between plant and animal organisms, and perhaps the commonality there, or a level of communication that had never been considered before.  Keb Snydaar was not a biologist.  His academic strengths were purely mathematical and related to basic atomic structure.  Living organisms were chemical and chemistry was not his forte.  Chemistry was sloppy and inexact, he thought.  Fickle.

Normally Keb didn't give much thought to his attire, as long as he was comfortable, but today he wanted to make a good impression.  he picked out his best form fitting jeans, the worn Levi 501s, and a button down shirt that he had ironed the evening before.  he considered wearing a necktie even, but reconsidered, as he thought it might seem a bit much.  They were going to go for a walk in the woods, and business casual in woods would just make him stand out as an uncomfortable and detached individual.  He laughed to himself that the truth hurts, that he was the poster child for uncomfortable and detached, but advertising it was even more socially inept than being so.

He looked himself up and down in the door length mirror of his cluttered room, and satisfied that he would not be the subject of disapproving stares, made his way toward whatever fate, destiny and dumb luck might make present in his path.  Before making contact with the doorknob he patted his pockets to ensure he had migrated his entire walking inventory to these pants and ran through his mental checklist of needed accessories; notebook, writing implement...coffee??

How had he forgotten coffee?  He would have to stop somewhere and buy some.

"idiot idiot idiot"  Keb chastised himself out loud for this simple oversight.  Now he would have to deal with this anomaly; stopping somewhere for coffee, and all the associated little anxieties that would accompany it.  

He ran through the event in his mind, anticipating the extra traffic in the turn lane he would encounter, the uncomfortable tapering of distance between himself and another patron going in the front door, the imminent choice he would have to make between a fresh pot of medium brew, or a slightly burnt and older pot of dark brew, the eye contact and connection with the store clerk...

He had to forcefully stop himself by shaking his head, or he might stay frozen like this for minutes...and sometimes those minutes turned to hours.  He pictured Alice as he had first seen her, extending her hand to him and smiling, then he took a deep breath and made his out.

***

Alice's Apartment. Maplewood, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 7:45AM

"Wake up, My Love."  

Alice smiled as she heard those familiar words, somewhere between the last dream and now...

"Today we have important things to do."

"Okay, I'm up Ga..."  She said lazily, adoring the warmth of her comforter and familiar smells of morning, then stretching her arms outward and yawning.

"What's a Ga?"  

Alice started, but only internally, the sole betrayal her eyes sudden opening and full awareness.  She immediately took stock of her surroundings.  The white and volume of her own bedding, the smell of lavender and cinnamon in the air, the musk and warmth of male body and the contour of the person next to her.  She was home.

"Mornin' sleepy dreamer."  The figure beside her said, and leaned toward her face and mouth.

"Mornin' yourself handsome."  Alice replied, turning her head away from his advance.  "Breath..."

"I brushed my teeth a few minutes ago."

"Not yours, mine."  Alice propped her upper half to sitting and eyed her bedmate approvingly.  "Do I smell coffee?"

"You do.  I'll go get you some."  Her companion leapt athletically to his feet and eager to show off his kind deference and barista skill both, scurried off to his immediate task.

"He's such a good boy," Alice thought to herself.  "I think I'll keep him."

Alice decided to take advantage of these minutes and closed her eyes to melt into the meadow, but only for a moment.

"Good morning, My Love."

Gaia was waiting for Alice, kneeling beside her as she opened her eyes.  She was her middle self, though more young than old; her hair was almost entirely bright amber, with a single streak of silver running it's entirety into the ground.  She was stroking Alice's golden hair and humming softly.

"Was that you who woke me up?"  Alice asked immediately.

"Well, i can't take all the credit, now can I?"  

"Did you speak to me from here? or..."  Alice asked, needing some clarification on what had transpired as she woke.  Never before had she confused a person, any person, with Ga.  She wasn't sure who she had heard first, Ga or...

"...Sully.  I spoke to you with his voice."  Ga admitted, referring to Alice's love, Sully Robertson.  

"I didn't even know you could do that."  Alice said nervously.  "It's kind of creepy."

"I'm sorry My Love.  I do not dance with the thought of speaking with another's voice.  I only spoke for a moment and was gone."

"I understand Ga.  I haven't forgotten."  Alice said, softly.  "The Dak Aua is coming..."

"...and we have work to do."  Both Ga and Alice said simultaneously.

<a name="10262017">--</a>

Research Operations Center Hoboken, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 9:28AM

The air was thick with moisture, having rained earlier in the morning, and there were still small pools scattered about and roof edges and trees still slowly dripped.  The drive to work had been slow, and with the extra stop for coffee already weighing on Keb's mind he would on any other day have already reached his personal tolerance for delay.  Today, however, he took it all in stride, his mind racing in several directions at once.  How would she look?  He thought.  "Will she be upset with me for trying to debunk her mythos?  Will she like my jeans?  What if she's a fraud?  What if she's not a fraud?..."

The last of these questions weighed heaviest on his mind.  Alice had already seemingly convinced two highly intelligent professionals of her ... odd ... sensitivities.  What would he do if...? this was always the toughest question, with everything.  So many possibilities, so many wildcards, so many outcomes.  Too many to fully digest, he thought.  Baby steps.

As Keb pulled into his parking spot, the one incorrectly marked for Dr. Snyder, he saw Alice get out of her car and walk towards the front entrance.  He could've gotten out immediately and gotten her attention with a friendly 'Good Morning!' but he opted for the path of least anxiety, as had become his instinct.  He needed some moments to prepare to say hello; he couldn't just approach her in the parking lot.  could he?  So he just sat and watched.

He watched as she motivated herself forward, noting that her elbows stuck out when she moved at a brisk pace, and her wide braid bouncing between her shoulder blades as she walked.  He wondered if it bothered her, the persistent pattern of contact.  She wore loose fitting sweat pants and a wind breaker over a simple printed white t-shirt.  Keb thought she looked like someone going on a gambling junket to Mississippi.

He watched as she stopped by a tree and looked up, and waved hello to a small bird.  He half expected to see it land on her finger and accompany Alice in a song.

Having satisfied her need to interact with her new friend, the sparrow, Alice made her way into the modest looking glass and concrete facility, and seeing this, Keb proceeded to exit his car and walked along the elegantly landscaped path into the building.  As he passed the small birch tree where Alice had her brief commune, he heard a single staccato *chirp, and looking up, saw Alice's friend.

"Hello bird."  Keb said, noticing a small black and orange spot on it's left side.  

*chirp*  The bird repeated itself, staring at Keb from the safety of it's elevated perch.

"Really?  She said that about me?"  Keb played.  "Wow, she must think I'm pretty awesome, huh?"

The sparrow ruffled it's feathers and turned away.

"Guess not."  Keb mock frowned.  "But there's always hope, right bird?  What's that?  I need to accomplish something with my life?  Then maybe she'll come around?  Well, you do make a valid point... Hmm, I'll have to think on your words of clarity..."

"Oh, he's just impatient.  Sparrows are the most impatient of all birds, I think.  Well, maybe seagulls.  But sparrows are definitely up there."

Keb jumped sideways as he heard Alice speak as if she had miraculously appeared beside him.  It was fortunate for him that today he  insured his coffee lid was securely capped.

"I'm sorry for startling you."  Alice chuckled.  "I just got here myself.  I forgot something in my car."

"S'ok."  Keb wondered how she had moved so quietly, and how much she had heard.  Would she know he was talking about her?  

"How are you this morning?"  He tested.

"Stressed!"  Alice said immediately.  "Holy shit, I can't believe how people drive around here!  I saw half a dozen near misses on the turnpike this morning.  I'm amazed that anyone here in New Jersey manages to get where they're going alive."

Keb laughed at Alice's irritated and somewhat profane commentary.  It was unexpected.  He imagined her to be a 'one with the universe' type of individual, one that let things roll off her back.  Apparently, like Keb himself, she suffered to some extent the same irritation at the general lack of compassion and empathy one see's on a daily basis in these United States, especially when driving.

"Where I'm from, people may be a bit crazy too, but they at least have some semblance of regard for other motorists."

"Well, I'm glad we both made it safely, regardless."  Keb said, wanting to go inside and prepare for their appointment with the wood.

"I know, right?  I'll meet you inside, i just need to grab something from my car."

"Okay."  Keb said, walking.  "I just have to check in with Dr. Marisen and let her know I'm here."

*chirp*

"The bird says to 'say hi' for him."  Alice said, seriously.

"Really?"  Keb said, stopping suddenly and looking back at her.

"No."  Alice grinned, showing her perfect teeth.  "Gotcha!"

Alice laughed cheerily as she strutted back to her car, elbows out.  

Keb stared at her as she walked, his mind on her femininity, contour, and grace.  He stopped himself before his thoughts naturally migrated to sexuality.  That wouldn't be fair to her or to Research Ops.  Keb already understood how his emotional state might negatively affect this or any other academic process; were he to add to that the constant pressure of intimate appetites, well...chances are that Alice would leave prematurely and Keb would be the cause, an undesirable outcome.

He shook his head slightly, as much from habit as to clear unwanted thoughts, and walked through the nondescript entrance to Research Operations Center, Hoboken.

The facility was alive with motion and the sounds and smells of industry and had been for several hours.  There were technicians scurrying to and fro with burdens of tools, and expedience, administrative personnel carrying coffee and conversation, deliverymen with clip-boards and looks of impatience, and construction workers laboring against gravity and restraint.  It was a busy day, but every day was a busy day here at Research Ops.  Private sector folks didn't have the luxury of living on their own clock, as Universities and Government facilities often did.  Money only appeared with expectation, not charity, and expectation only appeared with potential, progress, and results.  That was what mattered to Edge Silver, and he would not tolerate anything but 'asses and elbows' in motion.

"Good morning Olsa."  Keb said earnestly to his friend, colleague, and supervisor, who was sitting in a resin chair at one of the utility tables in the foyer, drinking coffee and reviewing a progress report.

"Well, good morning to you, sunshine!  Big day today!"  She replied enthusiastically.  "You ready?"

"As ready as ever, I suppose."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic.  Something bothering you?"

"Not really.  Just same shit as ever, I guess."  Keb said.  "Wondering where this stuff with Alice will lead, is all.  I mean, if Alice is what we think she may be, then the world is a different place to what we've all been taught.  Everything changes.  And if she's not..."

"...then Alice is mentally ill, or a fraud."  Olsana said seriously, completing Keb's thought.

"...and Occam's Razor suggests that the likelihood is the latter of those scenarios,"  He continued.  "...and that makes me sad."

"Would make us all sad.  Waste of time, and resources.  Speak of the devil!"  Olsana said abruptly, as much a greeting as a warning to Keb that Alice was in earshot.  "Good morning sunshine!"

"Good morning to you!"  Alice said as she walked into the foyer, matching Olsana's positivity and cheer.  "I'm all set to go talk to trees for you."

Olsana laughed.  Keb just stared, unsure if Alice was joking or not.

"Here, I packed some stuff for you guys that I'm pretty sure Keb overlooked."  Olsana retrieved a small grocery sack made of canvas from under the table.  "Water, first aid kit, Swiss army knife, insect repellent, snacks..."

"This is an experiment, Olsana, not a picnic..."  Keb said, immediately sorry that he did.

"What's wrong with a little picnic?"  Alice quickly joined, rescuing Keb from his own impulsive negativity.  "All work and no play makes Keb a dull boy."

"That's what I'm sayin'!"  Olsana bellowed.  "Now you two skedaddle, and don't come back 'til the sandwiches are eaten.  Here Alice, you drive.  I already signed out a company ride for you two.  The Beast!"

Olsana handed Alice a ring of car keys with a large ROC fob on it.

"Okay..."  Alice said reluctantly, looking at Keb to gauge his reaction, who had an unreadable expression, other than his normal look of seeming to be in pain.  "The Beast?"

"Keb hates to drive."  Olsana explained for him.  "Besides, I don't think he can handle the sheer force of 'The Beast'... Girl Power!"

Olsana raised her fist in the air, and there were several echoes of her sentiment to be heard throughout the immediate environment, including  applause and vocal support.  In her realm, and this facility was indeed her realm, Olsana fostered not only a place of safety for female workers, but a place of power.

"I'm not so sure I can handle The Beast, either."  Alice remarked, looking again to gauge Keb's reaction.

Keb rolled his eyes.

"The Beast is a two seat electric car.  The engine was converted from a power screwdriver, i think."  Keb said.

"So, The Beast is an herbivore then?"  Alice joked, making both Olsana and Keb laugh.  Taking the laughter as a cue, Olsana bid the two good luck and sent them on their way.

As they walked together quietly out of the building, Alice's mind was distracted by the thought of comfort she got when she made Keb laugh.  And maybe she felt something else, something more than just comfort?  She would have to ask Ga, she thought.

The drive to Hacklebarney State Park, which took approximately 45 minutes, gave Keb and Alice a little time to get personally acquainted.  They spoke about their hometowns and schooling, and Research Operations Center, Edge Silver, and Olsana, and learned that they had several common passions.  They both loved coffee, music, and art, but more importantly, they found that they genuinely liked each other.  Alice was surprised to learn that Keb had a sense of humor, and had made her laugh several times on the ride.  Keb was compelled by Alice's intelligence, the way she phrased things, her rational insights and morality.

"Do you want some insect repellent?  Still wet outside from the rain.  Gonna be skeeters."  Keb offered, as he searched through the canvas bag of supplies.

"No thank you.  I don't use pesticides."

"Ever?"  Keb asked, surprised.  "What if you get ants or roaches in your house?"

"I don't."  Alice said.  "I keep a clean house, thank you very much."

Though Alice spoke truthfully, it wasn't merely her attention to orderliness and cleanliness that kept pests at bay, it was Gaia.

Gaia's constituent particles, Auton's they would soon be dubbed, at varying levels of concentration were in every living thing on Earth; every insect, every bird, every plant.  She, and others like her, was the connection between all things organic.  She was why a mass of hundreds and thousands of Starlings flew together as if of a single mind, and why massive schools of Herring danced as if all to the same music.  They were as one, through Gaia.

Gaia did not actively or consciously control all living organisms, but she was present, nudging here and prodding there.  She could control her own parts, her autons, as precisely as a human could manipulate their own fingers, massing them together to focus light energy and heat at nano tolerances, delicately arranging them to manipulate the color dance, and even using them to capture and vector clusters of electrons.  Control was not part of her dance, though.  On an evolutionary scale she was more sculptor or potter, than a maker or packager of clay, but the ability to control was viable and potent, if largely ignored.

"...and the skeeters?"  Keb prodded.

"I'm not sure if I've ever been bitten by a mosquito, frankly."  Alice said, thoughtfully.  "Or by any bug, come to think of it."

"Bee sting?"

"Nope."

"Fire ant?"

"Nope."

Keb stared at Alice for far longer than he normally would have felt comfortable with.  He was scanning her for her emotional state, looking for any signs that she was at any level full of shit.  He didn't see any.  All her could read on her was sincerity and... good.  He searched internally for a better word.  Good was subjective, he knew, and could be sourced from many of a thousand places, the most common including upbringing, personal tragedy, and current economic perspective, all malleable and externally coerced.  But as he stared, he wondered if maybe he was wrong, if maybe there was a quantifiable, consistent and polar quality called 'good,' and Alice was that.

"You think I'm full of shit."  Alice stated flatly, eyes remaining focused on the surrounding traffic that loomed over the small automobile that whined it's frustration at maximum occupancy and minimum thrust.

"I believe you, though what you're telling me is naturally anomalous, unless you live in a bubble."

"But you believe me."  She repeated, turning her attention to look in Keb's eyes.

Keb saw in her eyes everything he had thought previously, but more and unexpectedly he saw her need for him to believe her.  It displayed a vulnerability he had not seen in her before, a very real softness.  He saw her hurt and got just a tiny taste of her damage, and he loved her for it.

"She is here for me."  He remembers.

His mind drifted to that moment he touched her.  Sometimes, when he mentally floated and let the delusion ride unfettered he believed it meant she would love him.  However, even when within the easy embrace of fantasy his brain wouldn't allow for simple, easy answers.  Maybe the message was not focused on him, he thought, but on her.  maybe it was she who needed help and he would necessarily provide it.  

Someone of mystic experience had long ago told him that there were two types of greatness; the glory of kings and the poetry of king makers.  According to his tarot profile and the pseudo-calculus of numerology, he was to be the latter of these, only.  A fun detail he liked to remind himself of from time to time.  

"I'm glad you believe me Keb."  Alice said, turning her attention back to the road and breaking him free of his passenger-induced hypnosis.  

"OH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!"  She yelled suddenly, hitting the brakes to avoid a collision with an aggressive motorist in a pickup truck who had decided that small electric cars were unworthy of consideration and a place on the common roadway.

"Fucking pricks in pickup trucks, I tell you."  Alice continued railing, shaking her head.  "I wonder if a person that buys a pickup is already an asshole or if the vehicle itself makes them a dick."

"Well, I imagine that the power of the pickup's V8 catalyzes an aggressiveness that is already present in the driver," Keb said thoughtfully, "And that this is exacerbated by the driver's relative elevation."

Alice turned to Keb and stared.

"You said fuck.  twice."  He added quietly, staring off to the right, smiling.

Keb expected her to laugh but instead was dismayed that she became apologetic.

"I'm sorry if my cussing bothers you..."  She began

"PUH-leese!"  Keb interrupted.  "I was kidding.  You can scream obscenities at the moon all day if you need to, I don't mind.  I read a study that indicated people that use profanity regularly are significantly more likely to display loyalty and compassion in their everyday lives."

"Fuckin' ay."  Alice smiled.  "Hey, there's a sign for the park.  We made it in one piece.  Yay!"

--

Hacklebarney State Park Morris County, New Jersey Aug 19, 2022 10:43AM

As Alice pulled into the park driveway they mutually decided that a spot with a charging station situated close to a bathroom would be best for all purposes, and found a suitable location quickly.  It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week so there were many open spots, for parking and all other park related activities.  This pleased both of them, as another of their common preferences was to avoid crowds of people whenever possible.  For Alice, this meant quiet, which was her sanctum.  For Keb, it meant a slight reprieve from heightened anxiety, which increased as his elbow space lessened.

As they got out of the small car Alice stared at the line of trees that wrapped around their location interrupted by several small paths, wooden handrails and small utility sheds.  She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then smiled and put her arms out as if greeting the world, which she was.

"Hello My Love!"  She said to the sky and surrounding life, then wrapped her arms around her shoulders in a self-embrace.

Keb watched silently and noted that the breeze changed as she spoke, creating music in the tree line, and several movements came into his peripheral vision.  Where moments before he saw only a sparsely populated public park, now he noted the erratic path of butterflies, swallowtails, he remembered, and dragonflies, dozens of them, hovering and darting looking for mosquitos to torment and devour.  and Birds, chirping and creating havoc in the branches.  Had they been making that much noise before?  He wasn't sure but it seemed that the ambient noise increased noticeably in relation to their being there.  Or, Keb corrected himself, to Alice being there.

He chastised himself for not thinking of audio concerns regarding the experiment.  Stupid arrogant idiot, he kicked himself, realizing that he did not take this experiment seriously enough, even though he had convinced himself otherwise.

"I should've brought a recorder and a condenser mic."  Keb said out loud, completing his internal dialog.

"Maybe next time."  Alice chirped, her mood clearly elevated at her surroundings, even though she was in a fine mood already.

"Isn't it glorious!"  Alice spread her arms out, as if to showcase the horizon to him.  "Keb, I would like to formally introduce you to Mama."

"Hello Mama."  Keb said, smiling, though he didn't know who he was smiling at.

<a name=10272017>--</a>

Alice leaned into the car and retrieved her carry bag, a cotton tie-dyed sack with brightly colored patches of flowers and peace signs sewn on, shouldered it, and smiled brightly.

"I'm ready."  She chimed, as she reached into her bag and pulled out an old Konica single lens reflex camera and set the strap around her neck.  "Lead on McDuff."

"What's the camera for?"  Keb asked innocently.

Alice stared blankly at him, blinking once.

"It's for taking pictures."  She said after a moment, her tone matching her look of mild condescension.  

Keb laughed so suddenly that he snorted, breaking Alice's facade of mock disbelief, and she laughed too.  Keb didn't notice but when she laughed, the entire landscaped reacted, growing slightly brighter, greener.

"C'mon Keb, let's go this way."  Alice decided to take the lead, waving him to follow.  She could feel Keb's anxiety, and it was her natural way to address discomfort in others, she didn't consciously think about it.  She would be the lantern carrier.

Alice had been diagnosed by the esteemed Dr. Michaelson as 'suffering' Acute Hyper-Sensitivity Disorder.  Upon reading this in her ROC report, Keb equated this to being a clinical quantification for an individual that had empathy.  That was what Western medicine had deemed as a detriment.  To he, the absurdity of this was almost comical.

Keb had reflected for long hours on the behavior of humanity; what makes us different from non-sentient life forms, and the simplest answer that he could arrive at was empathy and compassion.  These were the qualities least present in the behavior of all forms we consider non-sentient.  Life itself doesn't give a shit one way or another, he thought.  We make the choice to alter the currents and tides of life and give form to hope and self-evolution, and only those who Feel can willfully provide this to others.  

A person that cannot sense the suffering and need of another is not a vital organism.  It is sole and parasitic by nature.  One that can feel the suffering and need of another, yet chooses to ignore that need, or worse, manipulate it to add to their own mass, displays simple animal behavior and is flaccid in their ability to alter the flow to support and grow the system.

Only the one that can sense the need of another, and make the choice to address this need without the machination of adding to their own mass may be defined as sentient.  Sentience is not truly about being self-aware, he thought...it is about being out-of-self aware.

Keb didn't know it, but the very thing he defined as the sole common property of higher intelligence, empathy, was the very reason Gaia had been drawn to Alice.  Her great empathy, this diagnosed sensitivity disorder, was the most beautiful dance Gaia had ever seen.  The way  Alice's nervous system lit up with electrical activity in response to the dance of other living organisms was, to Ga, an oasis of organic sensation.  When Ga merged with Alice it was like she was born herself into Alice's consciousness and it's wonder.

"I think you make a better McDuff, anyway."  Keb said absently, adjusting his own burden on his shoulder and following dutifully, surveying his immediate path for obstacles.

"You sayin' I'm Butch?"  Alice teased.

"Sayin' you kick ass."

"I wish."  Alice laughed.  She had in the past been made to feel powerless at the hands of certain people, and still experienced some level of frustration at what she perceived of as a lack of physical potency.  She sometimes had to remind herself that her potency, her own magic, was very real and very unique.

As they walked, Alice leading by a few paces, she told Keb the story of Ga.  It was an intimate sharing for her, a vulnerability displayed, but she was in the woods now, among the trees, her Temple, and she recognized him now as a kind, gentle soul.  Damaged, certainly, she thought, but still she felt safe here with him.  A person's damage gives them defining texture and contour, and to she, there was little art in those with no damage.

"What do you think Gaia is, physically?"  Keb asked, making notes as they walked.

"Light."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can feel her in the sunlight.  When her rays touch me it feels like when you're in a room with someone you love.  You're not touching them, just sitting together, but you know they're there."

"Do you feel her in artificial light?"

"Yes and no.  Not really the same, like she's only partly there, physically."  Alice said, touching leaves as she walked by them as if they were her children's hands.  "But she's always there mentally.  Though now that i think of it, she's more vital, more animated in sunlight."

Keb wrote furiously as she spoke, and cursed as his pen raked dry across the notepad.  

"Aw crap!"  He spat.  "I hate pens that don't work!"

"Careful with throwing that word around."  Alice chastised.  "Don't waste such potent energy on something so trivial.  There are a great many things one may disdain, but hatred? Well, that's a self-applied pollution that befouls the entire body."

"Shakespeare?"

"HA! Alicespeare."  Alice giggled.  "But thank you.  Maybe I should write a play."

"What would you write about?"  Keb asked, genuinely interested.

"Hmmm..."  She thought.  "I think I'd write about finding yourself, about each person following their true path, whatever that is.  and computers."

"Computers?"

"I love computers. What can I say, deep down I'm a geek."  Alice shrugged acceptance.

"Really?  That's neat."  Keb complimented.

"Why, 'cause I'm a girl?"

"No, because your passion seems to be in art and music.  Loving tech is an entirely different animal."

"Yeah, I'm a bit hippy, and a bit metal too."  Alice admitted thoughtfully, somewhat pleased with her self-definition.

--

As they walked Keb began to notice small movements around Alice, though each time he trained his focus on the source he could see nothing that might have moved.  He wondered if he was having sleep deprivation hallucinations; little sparks and flutters in his peripheral vision, though he felt fine.  He was suddenly glad that Alice had taken point as he was able to survey her interaction with, and affect on the green, which would have been otherwise impossible had he been in front.

The more he watched and focused on her movements and the contour of her surroundings, he began to see what had triggered his motion sense; micro movements of the plant life around her.  At first he thought it was tactile, that Alice had touched the branch or frond to cause it to move, but he never saw the actual contact.  Just ahead Keb spied a tall thick tuft of saw grass which was bordering their path.  Alice would have to walk right past it, he thought.  Keb trained his sight on the grassy mass and as Alice glided past, he saw the movement; saw each frond move slightly toward her and follow her as she made her way past it.  He again cursed himself, a long habit of his, for his lack of foresight.

"I'm so fucking stupid.  I should've brought a high-speed camera.  We could see these motor responses in great detail in super slomo."

"Motor responses?"  Alice asked over her left shoulder.

"The plants are moving with you as you walk past."  Keb replied.  "I wasn't sure at first; thought it might be the wind or you touching them, or me seeing things, but now I'm certain."

"I was wondering when you would notice."  Alice smiled, as she raised her arms out to her sides and gracefully spun in a pirouette.

"Truthfully, I think I've seen enough to warrant the next phase."

Alice stopped, and frowning, turned to face her walking companion.

"Already?  Don't you want to see me 'talk to the trees?'"  Alice made air quotes.  "I thought that was the whole point."

"The point of this excursion was to find justification for a full investigation into your abilities, and I've already seen something I'd never thought possible; a plant interacting with a specific human being."  Keb said, feeling somewhat numb at this first revelation of new science.

"I don't have any abilities, not really."  Alice said matter of factly.  "It's Gaia.  She makes the plants move, not me."

"I disagree.  Olsana told me about your meeting with Michaelson."  Keb explained.  "I didn't know what to think about it...until now.  If you have the ability to communicate a need to Gaia, as Olsana indicated you did with the crow summoning, and she then addresses that need through some physical manipulation of mass or energy, as in providing a conduit between yourself and the crow, then you're incorrect.  You not only have abilities, but if you are the only one who has this bond with Gaia, you may be the single most potent person on the planet."

"Oh, pish."  Alice said dismissively, waving her hand at him.  Her nature would not allow her to fully accept what she knew deep down in her heart to be true, that she was a Goddess, or at the very least, an Angel.

"I'm not exaggerating even a bit."  Keb said.  "Frankly, I may actually be in some subtle form of shock, because this is some mind blowing shit, and my mind is a blank.  This is all new."

"Well, it's not new to me,"  Alice smiled warmly,  "...And certainly not to Ga.  Besides, we haven't even had lunch.  Olsa said not to come back until the sandwiches were eaten."

"True enough. However, all food gets eaten, regardless."  Keb dead-panned.  "She didn't say we had to be the ones that ate it."

"I don't think she was referring to ants or bacteria.  We are finding a place to sit and eat, mister."  Alice commanded, hands on her hips.  "I'm not driving back with you until you eat and don't have that look on your face like someone's poking you with needles."

"Do I really look like that?"

"HOT needles."

"Well, at least they're sterile."  Keb attempted a weak smile, and though his feelings were a bit hurt, he didn't disagree a bit.

"C'mon."  Alice said, no longer willing to waste energy negotiating.  "Follow me."

She didn't wait for a reply, and spinning on her heel, elbows out, made her way to a dry looking spot she had eyed minutes earlier; or maybe something told her to choose it.  She wasn't sure.

Alice found the clearing that spoke to her, and knowing Keb had followed (without any indication, verbal or otherwise), she spun again and pointed to the ground at her immediate left.

"Here."  Alice said with a maternal glare, which Keb didn't consider challenging for even a moment.

He immediately rustled through the supply bag and produced a red and white plaid tablecloth, which he draped across the general section of grass she had pointed to.

"How lovely, and so rustic."  Alice said happily.  "Olsa thinks of everything."

"Well, she didn't think of a ground cover large enough for the two of us to sit on."  Keb said, scratching his chin.  "This will, however, create a plane separating the food from the ants, so no complaints."

"She probably imagined us eating at a picnic table."  Alice offered.

"We can do that if you like."

"Actually, I prefer the ground, if you don't mind."  Alice returned, remembering all the times she had said that exact phrase in her life, in response to several different topics; transportation, sleeping arrangements, et al.

As a small child she often opted to sneak outside and sleep on the grass. This particular eccentricity especially enraged her mother, who was already a volatile that required little spark to ignite.  Alice now, as an adult, sometimes had to resist the urge to lay out on the grass at night, simply because it wasn't safe for any young woman to be outside alone.

"Nope, don't mind a bit."  Keb agreed.

Keb continued to root through the large canvas sack, finally producing paper plates, plastic flatware, napkins, plastic utility containers which held cold potato and slaw salads, and two sandwiches of unknown quantity.  He handed the materials to a sitting Alice, who placed them carefully in their proper configuration.

Order was a high priority to Alice.  She painstakingly manipulated any space she would be forced to inhabit for any length of time, whether it was the place setting at a diner or her own office and living space.  Everything had it's place and usefulness, and if it didn't meet both criteria, it was gone.

Unsatisfied that he had found all that he would need at this lunching, Keb continued to scan the contents while lowering himself to sitting, and did not see the stick he would sit on.  It was small enough to be missed, yet large enough and contoured to provide a nice goose.

"Careful."  Alice said, seeing the unfolding milieu before her.

Keb looked quickly beneath him as he sat, and seeing the obstruction, attempted to catch himself by shifting his left leg. This however, did not produce the expected results.  As he unknowingly planted his left foot on a still moist leaf, his leg skated out from under him and Keb flew backward and landed flat on his back, creating a moderate 'thud'.

"Oh my!"  Alice exclaimed.  "Are you okay?"

Keb laid still for a moment and stared at the sky, performing a brief internal inventory for physical damage.

"Yeah."  He said, still staring skyward.  "Least I didn't sit on that stick.  Thank you for not laughing."

"I'm really sor..."  Alice began to apologize, feeling somewhat responsible for Keb's immediate posture, but couldn't contain herself.

"HAHAHAHA..."  Alice began laughing.  "I'm sorry, but that was really funny...HAHAHA..."

"I didn't drop the bag."  Keb said innocently, smiling stupidly to the sky.  This made Alice laugh even harder.

Alice continued laughing, tears streaming down her face, while Keb propped himself to sitting.  He watched her and saw that she laughed with her whole face, with joy and release.  He didn't know it yet, but Keb would think back on this scene often in the years to come, concluding it to be the moment he fell in love with her.

When she finally gained some control, a difficult proposition when the giggles set in, she again apologized for what she considered an  immature display, made worse because it was at someone else's expense.

"I read an interesting little piece that made a correlation between comedy and tragedy, stating essentially that all things are tragedy; Comedy is simply someone else's."  Keb commented, while unwrapping a sandwich.

"If that's so, then all things are comedy too.  Just depends on your perspective."

"Unless the tragedy is universal."  Keb said, making a face at his untoward discovery of beets on his sandwich.  "If it happens to all of us, who's left to laugh at it?"

Suddenly Alice's expression changed.  Her sparkling golden rimmed green eyes averted to the ground and her brows furrowed, her smile becoming a grimace as she chewed on her lower lip.  Keb noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?  Did I say something?"  He said, plucking blood red disks from his lunch, worried that he had caused her some issue.

"No.  Well, yeah, you said many something's, but it's not you."

"Okay, I'm listening."  Keb prodded, eyeing the red stains on his bread with disdain.  "And wondering who puts beets on a sandwich?"

"I'm not ready to talk about this yet.  I'm sorry."  Alice said, wrapping her arms around her knees as she sat.  

"Beets are okay."  She forced a smile.

Keb didn't understand exactly what had happened but he was fairly certain that he had catalyzed it with his commentary on comedy and tragedy.  Did she shut down at the memory of some personal trauma or is it more?  He wondered.

"I'm here to listen.  About the beet thing, I mean."  Keb smiled.

He wanted to tell her that she could trust him, but stopped himself, knowing what flaccid commentary that would be to someone that didn't know him.  

Anyone can offer trust, he thought, and they often do, yet fall far from grace when the event horizon is reached.  A contract of trust is manifest in silence.  It is anonymous and unheralded by nature, and it is rare.  He could not ask for her trust, he might only earn it. And that he would do by silently honoring her.

--

--

[generallyspecificblog]

  I watched episodes 1 & 2 of the new season of Stranger Things on Netflix this weekend, its been a long time coming. I’ve been waiting patiently for this season since the last one ended. The show grew on me in a big way, i did not like it initially. Something about it is mysterious and innocent and this season looks to have more of a suspenseful and scary vibe. I’ve only watched two episodes thus far so this is an incomplete project but I felt I needed to write about it because i haven’t blogged a long one in a few days. What follows are my hot takes, conspiracy theories, and honorable mentions of “Stranger Things” Season 2.

Ah, the ’80’s, things were slower back then i’m sure, i wouldn’t know though because i was -10 in 1980. The fact that in one of the opening scenes the boys are scrambling for quarters to go play arcade games just tells me that those were the good days. Reminds me of the movie/documentary, “The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters”, if you haven’t seen that i suggest that you stop reading this blog and go watch that documentary, you will not be let down, you will also have your masculinity tested by a man named Billy Mitchell. Also that is probably the only time i’ll suggest that you stop reading the blog so you know its worth it. Anyways, quarters are king and Mike robs Nancy of her piggy bank which i think is just great, but also i feel like Nancy is a bit too old for a piggy bank.

So the boys (Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin) rally at the local arcade room, Those for sure were only around for laundering money i imagine, and get to playing. At some point Will hears something and wanders off and somehow he is pulled into the upside-down place, his home pretty much the whole 1st season, and sees a dark sky with red lightning and a shadow demon thing with tornadoes for arms and then snaps out of it. First off i would like to say that i do not completely understand what the show writers are going for with the existence of the “Upside-down” place. I guess the easiest way to explain it is an alternate dimension that’s evil and terrible, but i just don’t know how it all works. I will admit that i think that if i were to somehow be instantly teleported to a place like that, i would for sure only be able to cry and close my eyes until i inevitably died because that place, and that monster thing seem completely terrifying. With all of that being said i think that calling it “The Upside-Down Place” is a rookie move and who ever came up with it needs to go to prison. It’s like calling it “Creepy Avenue” or “Elm Street”, how about a better name for the place that your main characters fear and where pure evil resides. As a matter of fact i will no longer refer to it as the “Upside-down” place and from here on out it will be called the “Thunderdome” or “Satans Basement” or “Oklahoma” ANYTHING but “Upside-down” place.  So, Will snaps out of it somehow and his excuse to his friend for being outside is that he needed some air, I found that funny because this show is set in the 80’s and no chance kids were as messed up and snowflakey as they are now. “Needing some air” in the 80’s was just something you said when you wanted your 3rd cigarette from your 2nd pack of the day, i assume. Be more dramatic Will.

The cameos in these first two episodes were very interesting and i didn’t hate them, i’d actually be excited if they all stayed on as regulars. First we have Brett Gelman playing Murray Bauman, aparrently some kind of private investigator with suspicion of Russian assistance in the events that transpired last season. Gelman is killing it lately with the cameos and honestly is just a really funny guy, i will never forget him in The Other Guys as the Arnold Palmer obsessed wanna-be swinger who begs Will Ferrels character to bang his wife.

Next and my favorite so far is the incomparable Mikey Walsh, the lovable Samwise Gamgee, Rudy HIMSELF, Sean Astin playing Bob “The Brain” Newby. Sean Astin is top 10 in my favorite actors, all around good dude, and just as lovable as they get. His character in Stranger Things is Joyce Byers’ new love interest it seems, and he does a fantastic job. The dynamic between him and Joyce is weird but i am fully invested after 2 episodes. Sean Astin nerding out about video cameras and radio shack is grade-a television folks.

Other than that there is a new pair of sibling characters in the show, Billy and Maxine AKA MadMax, that i just don’t know about yet. Billy is an absolute psychopath that resembles a younger Zac Efron who is fond of younger Zac Efrons who drives like a bat outta hell. This Billy dude is like a cross between Kurt Cobain on a bender and Jack Nicholson from The Shining. Pure crazy, but an entertaining character. His sister, i’m assuming, Maxine (or Max as she so rudely corrected the zany teacher at the school) is a very boyish little girl who is apparently good at arcade games and skateboarding, possessing some of the same crazy traits as her aforementioned brother. Some subtle yet understandable misogyny is featured in a scene where the boys are spying on her and say something along the lines of “girls cant play video games”. There is a new psychiatrist guy that talks to Will too but he is very boring and on the bad guys side so i don’t particularly care for him. Out of the new characters i mentioned above i would rank them accordingly: 1. Bob 2. Murray 3. Billy 4. Maxine 956. Doctor Boring D.O.

As for our returning characters a lot has changed in good ole Hawkins and its nearing the one year anniversary of the finale of last season some time around Halloween, obviously. The iconic Reagan Bush ’84 Campaign signs make an appearance in these episodes a couple of times in peoples yards and i love it, shout out Rowdy Gentleman.  The boys are still up to their nerdy shenanigans riding around on bikes and talking on their giant walkie-talkies. An exciting part is that they dress up as Ghostbusters for Halloween and being the season is set in 1984 i give 1,000 kudos to the kids for being such trailblazing fans of the film, and 2,000 kudos to their parents for making the costumes from scratch. There is a pretty comical argument between Mike and Lucas on who gets to be Venkman, Bill Murrays character, with an awkward reference to the only black Ghostbuster, Winston Zeddemore played by Ernie Hudson, being lame because he was late to the team.

  Mike is emotionally invested in 2 boxes of toys for some reason and misses the hell out of his superhuman girlfriend, 11, just being an emo little baby pretty much the whole time. Will and Mike make some weird pact while trick-or-treating where Mike says “If you’re weird, I’m Weird” kind of like Ryan Gossling does in the Notebook (If you’re a bird, I’m a bird). Lucas and Dustin fight over who is gonna date Maxine.

Our guy Will, who spent the majority of last season in the Thunderdome, has turned into a monster in the eyes of the kids at school. He gets bullied a bit, being called “Zombie Boy” and getting notes put in his locker saying the same thing, thank god Twitter or Facebook didn’t exist back then or this dude would of 13 Reasons Why’d his way through the rest of this season, probably. He takes it with stride though, animating his new nickname pretty artistically, wouldn’t be surprised if he creates a comic book about his Zombie alter ego and becomes a millionaire.

Steve and Nancy are still an item, probably my second favorite couple behind Johnathan and crippling loneliness. Nancy has become annoying because out of the clouds she starts actually caring that her friend Barb is dead, probably because she feels guilty, i mean you’d have to be an idiot to not blame Nancy for the demise of our homely heroine, Barb. There is a scene where Nancy and Steve go have dinner with Barbs parents and enjoy some KFC #fingerlickingood. Barbs parents are delusional at this point, in denial that Barb is dead. They are not in good health, mainly because of the fried chicken, and have plans to sell their home to fund a wild goose chase led by the wacky ex-journalist, P.I. Bauman. That should be successful. R.I.P Barb. Some how Steve has become more likable. Probably because of his hair which has some how become bigger, the higher the hair the closer to heaven, i see you Steve. Nancy and Steve go to a Halloween party together where she gets tipsy on some jungle juice, or as the raging toga bro, who is later seen yakking his brains out, calls it, “Pure Fuel”. Nancy, in typical white girl wasted fashion, says “bullshit” 9 million times after getting a cup of hunch punch spilled on her and brings up the past (Her and Steve basically murdering Barb, gone but never forgotten). Surprisingly Steve peaces out instead of taking advantage of Nancy like he did last season. Johnathan, in typical lonely guy fashion, swoops in like a sad pigeon and saves the day by taking her home and tucking her in. I feel it is necessary to say that i think Johnathan looks like an anorexic Bill Hader from SNL and i hope other people see that too.

  My favorite character, 11, or Elle as Chief Hopper adorably calls her, has taken up residence in a cabin out in the sticks. Chief Hopper is my 2nd favorite character in the show and he has become some type of father figure to 11 letting her stay in his cabin and is keeping her safe from the Russians or whoever is trying to get her. 11 is still a super hero and controls stuff with her mind. She has grown her hair out lookin like a jerry curl gettin real high up there, watch out Steve. Hopper is still whippin around in that dope ass Trailblazer and totin that 6-shooter like a rootin tootin cowboy, they should call him Sheriff instead of Chief. The interaction between Sheriff Hopper and 11 is perfect and comical. 11 is still very robot-like and says “five one five” instead of 5:15 at one point alluding that she hasn’t become much more normal than the first season. There are a few flashbacks to season one including one where 11 is breaking through some gooey womb-like substance out of Thunderdome and it reminds me of Jim Carrey being born from a rhino in Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. In another scene 11 kills and begins to cook a squirrel to eat and then beams it at some hunter dudes face in the woods because i guess that’s what Russian cyborgs do. Sheriff Hopper misses hanging out with Elle for Halloween and that broke my heart, do better man.

As usual the soundtrack for the show is the absolute best, the beginning credit song that sounds like Daft Punk time traveled back to the 80’s is up there with Game of Thrones intro song. So far the show is fantastic and there are a lot more witty references and noteworthy things to say but i have just realized that i have written 2,000+ words and most of this was just mindless stammering on and so with that i give my superlatives and predictions thus-far:

Most likely to die alone: Jonathan Byers

Worst Father of the Year: Sheriff Hopper

Most likely to Smash for sure: Hopper and Joyce

Most Improved: Barb

Best Hair: Steve

Probably Gonna Finish Last: Bob “The Brain” Newby

Most Athletic: The Bike Boys

Life of the Party: Yoga bro

Most Likely to Become President: Reagan Bush ’84

Biggest Twist: Barb is alive!

Token Black Guy: Lucas

Least Likely to do Anything, Ever: The dumb psychiatrist guy

Most likely to end up in jail or an insane asylum probably: Billy

Most Likely To Confuse The Millennium Falcon with the Starship Enterprise: My Fiance while watching the show with me.

      Stranger Things: Season 2 Return of Barb, Maybe. I watched episodes 1 & 2 of the new season of Stranger Things on Netflix this weekend, its been a long time coming.